THE RATTLE OF BONES

The wise man stood beside the village well. It was dry. Women came to him to ask for help. There was no water for their cows, and no milk for their children. The goats, too, and the sheep, were dying of thirst. The wise man told the women to hold forth their hands, and he cried tears into them. “Let the animals drink my tears,” he said.
Men came to him. The fields were barren; the seed had failed, and they would all starve. “Take my seed,” he told them; “spread it in your fields.” And he spent his seed in their hands.
The mayor sent to him. He was having a wedding feast for his daughter, but the vineyards had withered and there was no fresh wine. The wise man took a sharp stone, and made a deep cut in his breast. He picked up a cup-shaped stone from beside the dry well, and filled it to the brim with his blood. “Let them drink this,” he said; “it is better than wine.”
The next day the well was spilling over. The river was full, and the cows were giving milk. New wheat and corn and grass began to grow in the fields. In the mayor’s orchards, the grapes hung heavy upon the vines.
The mayor opened the gates in front of his house, and threw gold into the streets. He invited the whole village to his daughter’s wedding feast.
When everyone had eaten and drunk his fill, the mayor and the villagers went to thank the wise man. Beside the well they found his bones, nothing more.
“This is a sign,” the women said.
“It is a warning,” said the men.
“We must take heed,” the mayor said. “Such profligacy as his is not right, or just, or good.”
The people began to store water in barrels, and to harvest and hoard the grain from the fields. The mayor closed the gates before his house, and posted guards in his orchards.
The bones rattled noisily, and got up. The well suddenly went dry again. The bones started to walk out of the village. In front of the mayor’s house they paused, and the vines in his orchards withered, the grapes shriveled and dried and fell to the ground. As the bones rattled across the river, it dried up in front of them and became a bed of sand. The crops in the fields turned brown as it passed.
The bones walked on. Soon the villagers could see them no more, and the rattle of bones was dead in their ears.