The Star People

“But he hasn’t any arms!” said Peter.

“Yes, he has,” explained Uncle Henry, “his left one is up in the air, and his right one holds a shepherd’s crook upon his right shoulder. Like this.”

Uncle Henry added pebbles and lines until Boötes was finished.

“What awful short legs he has!” criticised Betty.

“That must be why he’s never caught the great bear,” smiled Uncle Henry.

“What’s he shaking his fist for?” inquired Paul, pointing to the herdsman’s left hand. “Is he so mad because he can’t catch Ursa Major?”

Uncle Henry did not reply, but drew two long lines from the uplifted hand downward to a point just below the end of the big bear’s tail.

“Oh, I know!” piped Betty, and throwing herself on her back, she began to star-gaze industriously.

Peter and Paul looked at each other inquiringly.

“The dogs!” said Peter. “Betty’s looking for them. They’re on leash of course. Those lines are the leashes.”

Uncle Henry smiled his pleasure.

“The hunting dogs—or, as you would say it in Latin, Canes Venatici, are largely imaginary. There are six stars—three in each dog, and all faint except one, named Cor Caroli.”

“I see the bright one!” said Peter, and put down a fair-sized pebble to represent it. When the children had found the five other faint stars and Uncle Henry had finished drawing the dogs, Boötes and his hunting hounds, Asterion and Chara, looked like this.

“Why do they call the bright star at the tail of Chara, Cor Caroli, Uncle Henry?” asked Paul.

“It is Latin for ‘heart of Charles,’” said Uncle Henry, “and the Charles they mean is Charles the Second of England, but don’t ask me why, for I don’t know. Perhaps the dog Chara ran away with Cor Caroli. I understand that Charles the Second lost his heart pretty often, and perhaps one time he didn’t get it back. Beware, Paul! I am Father William out of Alice in Wonderland; ‘you have asked me three questions and that is enough.’”

“Are you going to make a poem for us to-night, too?” inquired Betty hopefully.

“Let me see,” said Uncle Henry thoughtfully. “Great bear, Boötes, pronounced Bō-ō-tees, and two dogs—they ought to make some kind of a poem. How’s this? I’ll let you name it after you’ve heard it.”

“The milky way to catch a bear,” suggested Paul, as a name for the poem.

“Who spilt the milk?” volunteered Peter.

“The herdsman hasn’t ever caught Ursa Major,” said Betty reflectively, “so he’s wasting his time chasing him. ‘Don’t cry over spilt milk’ would be a good title, I think. He ought to be tending his silly sheep, if he has any.”

“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Peter, “‘Ursa was a big bear; Ursa was a thief.’ Like ‘Taffy the Welshman,’ you know.”

Since no one else had a better title, the “Society of Star-Gazers,” as Paul had named it, let it go at that, and allowed Boötes to persist in his pursuit of the great bear for his ancient mischief.

“I thought you were going to show us the lions to-night, Uncle Hen,” said Peter.

“So I am, Peter,” said Uncle Henry. “Tell me what you see just below and between Ursa Major’s hind feet.”

All the children looked, and Peter answered,

“Three faint stars, like a triangle.”

“Put them in with pebbles,” said Uncle Henry, and Peter did.

“That’s one lion; the little one. Now we’ll find the big one and draw them both.”

Then Uncle Henry drew a long line through the two stars at the root of the great bear’s tail, and extended it to the three little pebbles in a triangle under the bear’s feet, and through the triangle, and beyond as far again. At the end of this line he put a large pebble. (3)

“There,” said Uncle Henry, “is the star Regulus, which is in the big lion’s heart. See if you can find the rest of him.”

Betty soon picked out the lion’s head, and Paul added his hind quarters, and when Uncle Henry had drawn outlines around both big and little lions they looked like this.

“Now show us the Swan,” urged Peter.

“Yes, and the Dragon!” reminded Paul.

“You children haven’t forgotten a single one I promised,” laughed Uncle Henry. “Well, here goes; everybody find the dipper again.”

Everybody did.

“Now draw a line straight up through the middle of the dipper’s bowl and keep on with it a little over three times the length of the dipper’s handle. (4) Put a large pebble there and see if you can find the star. It’s in the swan’s tail, and he looks as if he was flying overhead, with his wings spread, and his long neck stretched out ahead of him.”

“Is he sort of like a cross?” inquired Betty after a moment.

“Right,” said Uncle Henry. “Put him in with pebbles.”

This shows how to find and draw the swan the way the children and Uncle Henry did.

“Now the dragon, Uncle Hen!” urged Peter.

“Are you sure,” said Uncle Henry, “that you promise not to have any bad dreams about the dragon if I show him to you before you go to bed?”

“Sure!” chorused the Society of Star-Gazers.

“Well,” said Uncle Henry, “the dragon is very terrible, but he is afraid of bears, so he is squirming away as fast as he can from them. He is wriggling a little faster too, because Ursa Major is on one side of him and Ursa Minor on the other. Draw a line through the stars in the tips of the swan’s wings, back toward the head of the bear-driver, and you’ll find the dragon’s head about halfway. (5) It’s a little triangle of stars, and from that the dragon’s body winds around the little bear’s body and down above the big bear’s back.”

“I see all of him!” exclaimed Paul.

“Here are the pebbles,” said Uncle Henry, “put the dragon, or Draco, where he belongs.”

Paul did, and Uncle Henry finished him.

“To-morrow night,” said Uncle Henry, “we’ll find some more of the star people and sky animals. They even have musical instruments in this Skyland of ours, so we’ll find the lyre that the sky ladies play on! One of the sky gentlemen is a great archer, too, so we’ll find him shooting his bow and arrow at a giant scorpion, and——”

“Oh, let’s find that now!” pleaded Peter and Paul in unison.

Betty did not join in the chorus. She was asleep, with her head in Uncle Henry’s lap.

“To-morrow night,” smiled Uncle Henry. “Betty will want to hear, too, about the sky lady’s mandolin, or harp, or lyre, or whatever it is.”

Then he picked up the little girl without waking her, and the boys followed him up the walk into “Seven Oaks”—and bed.

THIRD EVENING

UNCLE HENRY’S MAGIC TURNS THE LYRE INTO A UKELELE—AND THE ARCHER’S ARROW MISSES THE LOVELY SWAN AND HITS THE HORRID SCORPION

Betty had been informed by her brothers that Uncle Henry had promised, after she fell asleep, to show the lyre that the star ladies play when they have nothing else to do.

Since she had a new ukelele herself, and was learning to play it, her interest in all stringed instruments was keen, and as soon as the Society of Star-Gazers had come together on the beach the next evening, she demanded that the lyre be found.

“All right,” said Uncle Henry, “find the swan’s wing, on the side of him toward the dragon. Get that? Well then, look for a very bright star between that wing and the swan’s neck, and about the length of the swan’s neck away from the tip of the wing. You can’t miss it, for it’s the brightest star anywhere near. Its name is Vega, and some one has called it ‘the arc-light of the sky.’” (6)

“I see it!” cried Betty and the boys together.

“Look for two smaller stars that make a triangle with Vega, and then for three more that make a long diamond shape. That’s right, Peter, put down the pebbles and finish the lyre.”

“It’s sort of a harp on a foot!” said Betty in disappointment. “I want to make a ukelele of it.”

“Sure, easy as breathing,” agreed Uncle Henry, and promptly rubbed out Lyra from the sand, and made it over.

After all, Betty was the baby and might have her own way whenever Uncle Henry had anything to say about it. And let no one say that the ancients had all the imagination, after seeing the ukelele that Uncle Henry made of Lyra.

“We strive to please,” he said as it was finished, and Betty clapped her hands.

“Now we want to see the archer shoot the giant scorpion!” demanded Paul, speaking for the masculine part of the audience.

“Just a minute,” said Uncle Henry, “I’m coming to him. You can see one of his arrows if you look on the other side of the swan’s neck, just opposite to Betty’s ukelele. The archer shot at the swan and missed it.”

“Serves him right for trying to kill the beautiful swan. I love ’em!’” said Betty, with feeling.

“You’ll need to use very small pebbles,” warned Uncle Henry, “for Sagitta is rather small and quite faint.”

“What’s Sagitta?” asked Peter.

“Latin for ‘arrow,’” said Uncle Henry.

When the arrow was found and drawn, it was in this position.

“Now the archer!” demanded Paul.

“All right,” said Uncle Henry. “Paul, draw a line straight out from the head of the swan, right on in the direction he is flying, and go about twice the length of the swan’s neck.” (7)

Paul did.

“Now tell me,” asked Uncle Henry, “does anybody see anything, about there, that looks like a bow and arrow?”

The children searched the sky at a point a little over two swan’s necks ahead of the swan’s bill, and Peter cried triumphantly,

“I see it! I see it!”

“Make it then,” said Uncle Henry, “and keep the bow in the right position to the swan’s neck.”

When Peter had all the pebbles in their right positions, Uncle Henry drew in the archer’s body, and bow and arrow, and they looked like this:

“He’s just getting ready to shoot at the scorpion!” exclaimed Paul.

“Yes,” said Uncle Henry, “and the other star people have to look out too. The people who lived long ago called Sagittarius, our archer, “the Bull Killer.” They did this because when the stars of the archer rise in the east, they seem to drive all the stars of Taurus, the Bull, over the western edge of the world. So they said that Sagittarius killed off the Bull. We’ll find Taurus next winter.”

“Now let’s find the scorpion,” urged Peter.

“Wait a minute!” begged Betty, “I see another dipper.”

Peter was impatient. Dippers were not interesting, compared with giant scorpions.

“Betty,” he remarked, “wouldn’t believe there was a little dipper a few nights ago, and now she’s seeing ’em everywhere.”

But Betty had her way as usual, and the Society of Star-Gazers paused before passing on to the scorpion.

“Where do you see the new dipper, Betty?” Uncle Henry inquired with interest.

“It’s right back of the leg the archer is kneeling on.” (8)

“You’re quite right,” Uncle Henry agreed, “and it’s called ‘the milk dipper,’ because it’s right on the edge of the milky way.”

“Why that’s the bowl Ursa Major tried to get Boötes’ hot milk out of, and burned his mouth, and upset!” explained Betty, with a sudden inspiration.

“So it is,” agreed Uncle Henry, “although I must confess I never thought of the milk dipper when I made up that rhyme for you youngsters.”

“Now the scorpion!” insisted Peter.

“Oh, have your old scorpion, then, Mr. Peter!” exploded Betty, “I don’t want to see the horrid thing. I’m going to the cottage and show Katy the milk dipper.”

And she went.

So it was with Peter and Paul alone that Uncle Henry found the scorpion that Sagittarius, the archer, is always aiming at. (9) It would have been easy for Betty to find, for it really looks a good deal like a scorpion. See if you don’t think so when you’ve found it.

After Uncle Henry had shown the boys how the big, red star, called Antares, in the heart of the scorpion, has a reddish color, Peter suggested that it was probably red because the Archer had already shot an arrow through the scorpion’s heart, and made it bleed.

After that, since neither the boys nor Uncle Henry ever wanted Betty left out of anything, and since they knew she would have stayed if Peter and she hadn’t wanted different things at the same time, the Society of Star-Gazers adjourned until the next evening.

On the porch, however, Uncle Henry made up this poem and repeated it to Peter and Paul before they went in to bed.

FOURTH EVENING

THE VIRGIN IS TOO BUSY FEEDING HER SKY POULTRY, SO CASSIOPEIA GETS THE UKELELE TO PLAY

Betty, in spite of her pretended lack of curiosity about the scorpion, was down on the beach the next evening ahead of the other members of the Society of Star-Gazers. Uncle Henry found her in the twilight, sitting cross-legged before the sand-drawing of Scorpio.

As she searched the southern sky to find the constellation, she was singing Uncle Henry’s verses about the archer and Scorpio over and over, to a tune of her own improvising.

The boys had made bows and arrows from green saplings during the morning and had raced about for some time with “Rags,” in search of giant scorpions to shoot at. They discovered them in the most unexpected objects—trees, rocks, and even boats. The hunt had been accompanied by a war chant, with the scorpion verses for words. It was a faint echo of this that Betty was crooning to herself now.

As Uncle Henry approached her she looked up at him and said,

“Aren’t there any ladies among the star people, Uncle Henry? You told about the lyre that they play on, but you haven’t shown any of them to us.”

“Well, Betty,” said Uncle Henry, sitting down beside her, “there are several ladies in our star country, but only two of them are in our sight in the summer time. Let’s get the boys and we’ll find both the ladies and take a vote to decide which of them shall have your lyre-ukelele to play on.”

Betty called, in her high little voice, for Peter and Paul to hurry, and they raced down from the porch with “Rags” in tow.

“Uncle Hen,” asked Peter, “‘Rags’ wants to know if there aren’t any more dogs in the sky?” “Sure,” said Uncle Henry, “sky folks are very fond of dogs. We’ve found the two that belong to the herdsman. Besides them, there are two others, but we can’t see them ’til next winter. And, of course, there’s Cerberus, the ugly, monstrous three-headed dog that Hercules killed. We’ll find him to-night.”

“Oh, that’s great!” said Peter, and he and Paul settled down with “Rags” between them. “Rags” looked expectantly at Uncle Henry, who said,

“But first I’ve promised Betty to find the sky ladies that we can see now, and let one of them have the ukelele.”

“Rags’” ears dropped and he lost interest. Peter and Paul, however, remembering Betty’s temper of the previous evening, said,

“Of course, ladies first.”

“All right,” said Uncle Henry, “everybody find Arcturus in the hem of Boötes’ kilt. Get that? Well, then, draw a line in the sand, Betty, from Boötes’ right shoulder through Arcturus, and extend the line about as far again. (10) Then look in the sky at that point for a bright star.”

“I see it!” cried Betty. The boys picked it out next moment.

“Well,” said Uncle Henry, “it doesn’t look much like an ear of corn, does it? That’s what it is, though; an ear of corn held in the Virgin’s left hand. Its name, Spica, means just that. The Virgin is scattering grains from the ear of corn with her right hand, to attract the birds of Starland—the swan, the eagle, and the dove. We’ll find the eagle a little later on, but the dove is so far south that we never see it well. The boys and girls in South America see Noah’s dove, but we can’t.”

“Now,” continued Uncle Henry, “follow along northward from Spica to a point just below the big lion’s tail. There is the Virgin’s head. Between it and Spica are two fairly bright stars. The one nearest Spica is the Virgin’s shoulder. Her left arm hangs at her side, from the shoulder to Spica, while her right arm extends in the direction of the great bear’s tail. Put down the pebbles as fast as you find the stars, Betty.”

When Betty and Uncle Henry had finished the Virgin, or Virgo, as she is called in Latin, she looked like this:

Then Uncle Henry added the little half circle of small pebbles, with one larger one near the centre, shown in the picture just at the left of Boötes. (11)

“What is that, Uncle Henry?” asked all the children at once.

“Do you see it in the sky?” he asked,

The children quickly found it.

“What does it look like, then?”

Peter thought it was a handful of corn-grains from Virgo’s hand.

Betty said, “A necklace.”

“That’s nearest right,” said Uncle Henry. “It is called Corona Borealis, or the Northern Crown. That brightest star is named Gemma, so you see it might be a gem in a necklace, too. The Virgin looks as if she was going to bend over and pick it up. Perhaps she will some day.”

“I think,” said Paul, “that she’s too busy a person to give Betty’s ukelele to. Who’s the other lady?”

“I quite agree with you,” said Uncle Henry. “The Virgin seems very much occupied. Well, there is another lady in Starland. Her name is Cassiopeia, and since she has nothing to do but sit in a chair, perhaps Betty will let Cassiopeia have the ukelele to play. Virgo won’t be jealous, either, because she is clear across the sky from Cassiopeia; too far away to see. A long line drawn across the sky from Spica through the pole star in the little bear’s tail-tip will reach Cassiopeia. (12)

“She is easy to find, because she looks just like a big letter W. Does anybody see it?”

The trio all found the W very quickly. You will, too, for it is very conspicuous in the northeastern sky in July and August. Uncle Henry showed the children that Cassiopeia’s W had to be turned upside down, into an M, before she could be made to sit in her chair properly.

Here is how Cassiopeia looked:

“She hasn’t a blessed thing to do. We’ll give the lyre to her,” said Betty.

“I am glad to hear that you are going to give the ukelele to Cassiopeia,” said Uncle Henry. “Perhaps it will make her feel happier. She has had a rather sad life. Long ago Cassiopeia was queen of Æthiopia, and was very beautiful. But she was so proud of her good looks that she boasted herself prettier than the lovely sea-nymphs. This made Neptune, the god of the sea, so angry that he sent one of his worst sea-monsters to make trouble along the shore of Cassiopeia’s country.

“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, Neptune demanded Cassiopeia’s daughter Andromeda as a sacrifice.

“So you see it seems good to see Cassiopeia getting a little justice done her, if it’s only the present of a ukelele.”

“Teacher says,” piped up Betty, “that the lady’s statue on top of the Court House is ‘Justice.’ What does she have that little pair of scales in her hand for, Uncle Henry?”

“The scales are to help her in weighing the good and bad that people do,” explained Uncle Henry, “and speaking of scales, there’s a pair of them in the sky, too. If you will look between the Scorpio and the Virgin you will find the scales. (13) They are called Libra, which is Latin for ‘balance.’ There are four main stars in Libra, which make an oblong.”

This is how Libra, the balance, looked when the children and Uncle Henry had finished drawing it:

“Now,” said Peter, with an air of having shown great patience, “we want to see that three-headed dog. I forgot his name.”

“Cerberus,” said Uncle Henry, “But in order to find him we’ll have to find Hercules, the great strong man, for Hercules has Cerberus fast by one of his throats and is beating at his three ugly heads with a big club. At the same time, Hercules has his left foot on the dragon’s head, so you see he is kept busy.”

“Where do we begin?” asked Paul, impatiently.

“Draw a line,” said Uncle Henry, “from Vega in the ukelele to Gemma in the Northern Crown; the Virgin’s necklace we found a while ago, you know.”

Paul did it. (14)

“Now,” directed Uncle Henry, “look about half-way between, and you’ll find Hercules’ legs. His left leg is nearly straight, but his right has the knee bent a little. Hercules’ legs and the sides of his body and his belt make sort of an H shape.”

“Oh, I see it!” exclaimed Peter. “Shall I make him, Uncle Hen?”

“Sure, go ahead, Pete; and the rest of you watch for Hercules’ head and arms.”

When the children had put down pebbles to represent all the stars in Hercules, and had connected them with lines in the sand, Hercules looked like this:

“Oh,” broke out Betty, excitedly, “he’s got the ugly dog in his left hand!”

Then she added the three heads of Cerberus, and it was Uncle Henry’s turn to draw in the outline of Hercules, and complete the picture, like this:

“You have probably read,” said Uncle Henry, “about the twelve great labors Hercules performed. He had to be very strong to do them, but of course he was born that way. They say he even rose up out of his cradle and strangled two serpents that the goddess Juno sent to destroy him.”

The Society of Star-Gazers became very enthusiastic about Hercules after he was all finished. So will you when you see how big and strong and beautiful he is, almost straight over your head in the summer sky just after dark. You will enjoy him more if you lie on your back to look, as the Society of Star-Gazers did on the beach.

While they were all flat on the sand, looking up into the great blue-black, star-sprinkled bowl, Uncle Henry made up this poem, and recited it before the Society adjourned for the night:

FIFTH EVENING

IN WHICH A DOLPHIN WITH AN EAR FOR MUSIC SAVES A POET’S LIFE—AND UNCLE HENRY PUTS TWO BIRDS IN ONE POEM

During the next day Peter and Paul had seen a blue-racer in the grass, and, with Rags’ assistance, had chased it off into the woods behind the cottage.

So it was only natural for Peter to ask Uncle Henry whether there were any snakes among the star creatures.

Uncle Henry had said, “Two,” and promised to show the children a very big one, and an old man having a struggle with it besides.

Peter and Paul were expectantly waiting on the sand when Uncle Henry and Betty came down from the porch that evening after dark.

“Now,” said Peter, “where’s the snake, Uncle Hen?”

“We’ll begin with his head,” said Uncle Henry. “Everybody find the northern crown, or Virgo’s necklace, and Hercules’ club. Now look just between them and you will see five stars in a sort of little cross, quite close together. Get that?” (15)

The children soon found all five and put down little stones to represent them on the sand.

“All right, then; now trace a line from star to star, down toward Scorpio, and then across toward the archer, and then up in the direction of the swan. That line is the Serpent. It is writhing in the hands of Ophiuchus, the old man who is called ‘The Serpent-bearer.’ His head and Hercules’ head are only a little way apart. Look for a bright star just east of the bright one in the head of Hercules and you will have the head of Ophiuchus. Then look where his shoulders would naturally come and you will see two stars close together in each shoulder. Find them?”

The children did, and placed pebbles for the head and shoulders of Ophiuchus.

“Now,” said Uncle Henry, “draw two long lines down from the shoulders, through the Serpent and beyond, and you will have the old man’s body, legs and feet. One foot is just in front of the archer’s bow; the other is just above the red heart of Scorpio. You will have to imagine his arms, and his hands holding the serpent while it squirms.”

When all the pebbles were down and all the lines were drawn, Ophiuchus and the serpent, or Serpens in Latin, looked like this:

“Are there any more snakes, Uncle Hen?” inquired Paul expectantly.

“Yes, a sea-serpent made of very faint stars,” said Uncle Henry, “but he is rather hard to trace out and the only other creature I have left now that is anything like a snake is a dolphin, or porpoise, and he isn’t much like one. We’ll find him, anyway, and then if you prefer to make a sea-horse out of the dolphin, or Delphinus, as you would say in Latin, why go ahead and do it. The animals in Starland are very obliging. They will turn into anything you like to see in them.”

“Where is the dolphin, Uncle Henry?” asked Betty.

“Well,” said he, “draw a line through the beak of the swan and the arrow, or Sagitta, and it will strike Delphinus. (16) The arrow is about halfway between the swan and the dolphin. See it?”

The children soon found the dolphin and mapped his skeleton with pebbles. Then Uncle Henry put it to a vote of the Society of Star-Gazers whether Delphinus should be finished up as a dolphin or a sea-horse. The vote was two to one for the sea-horse.

Uncle Henry drew a sigh of relief; he didn’t know quite what a dolphin looked like, and he had seen a picture of a sea-horse in the dictionary only the day before. So Delphinus turned out to look like this. If you insist on having him a dolphin, why draw him differently yourself:

“I wonder,” said Betty thoughtfully, “who rides the sea-horses. Do the mermaids, Uncle Henry?”

“I don’t know about the mermaids,” he answered, “but I do know that an ancient poet and musician, named Arion, was saved from drowning by riding to shore on a dolphin. It was like this:

“Arion had gone from his home on the island of Lesbos to Italy, and while there had made a great deal of money by his singing.”

“Just like Caruso in New York,” exclaimed Paul.

“Yes,” said Uncle Henry, “and also like Caruso, Arion decided to go home for a visit. Well, on the way to Lesbos the sailors decided to murder Arion and get all the money he was taking home with him. He had gone on a regular pirate ship you see. The pirates were all ready to kill Arion, but he begged so hard to play just one little melody on his lute before he died that the pirate sailors said, ‘Yes, he might play just one.’ You would hardly believe it, but the melody that Arion played was so catchy and tuneful that it attracted a number of dolphins, who began to dance and turn somersaults about the ship. Then Arion watched his chance—and jumped over-board—and one of the friendly, music-loving dolphins carried him back to Lesbos on his back.”

“My, but I’m glad he got away from those awful pirates!” cried Betty with heartfelt fervor.

“It’s too bad the horrid sailors got his money after all,” said Peter. “If they hadn’t he might have got something nice for the dolphin to eat when he got to that place where he lived.”

“The dolphin fared better than that,” Uncle Henry assured the children. “It pleased the sea god Neptune so much to have one of his creatures save a poet’s life that he had that dolphin put in the sky among the stars, and we see him there now as the constellation Delphinus.”

“What’s next?” demanded Peter when the story of Delphinus was finished.

“The next three,” said Uncle Henry, shaking his head sadly, “are the last.”

“The last?!!” chorused the Society of Star-Gazers incredulously.

“Well, maybe not absolutely the last,” admitted Uncle Henry, “but the last for this Summer. There is a whole dozen more of the Star People in our northern sky, but we can’t see them until next Winter.”

“Why?” inquired Betty anxiously.

“It’s a long story,” said Uncle Henry. “Sometime I’ll tell you all of it, beginning with the fact that the pole of the earth always points to the north star, where the little bear’s tail is fastened, you remember. I promise to show you all the rest of the star animals and people when I come home for my Christmas vacation. Will that do, if I show you a wonderful eagle to-night—and a sea goat and a water carrier to finish up with?”

The children were disappointed, but they trusted Uncle Henry. He wouldn’t stop showing animals and people until he had to; they all knew that.

Peter said,

“We’ll have a whole dozen to look forward to next Christmas. Sort of a present from Uncle Henry. Come on, Uncle Hen, let’s find the eagle and the sea goat and water carrier!”

The others agreed with Peter.

“The eagle, or Aquila,” said Uncle Henry, “is easy to find because of a very bright star, called Altair, which is right in his neck. You will find it near the arrow, or Sagitta, between the end of the serpent’s tail and Delphinus. (17) Does anybody see Altair?”

“I do,” said Betty, “it’s right between two other stars that aren’t so bright.”

“Right,” said Uncle Henry. “Put down pebbles to represent all three, Betty, and we’ll find the rest of the eagle, or Aquila, as it would be in Latin.”

When the three pebbles were in place they stood in this relation to Sagitta and Delphinus:

“Now,” said Uncle Henry, “draw a line downward through the three stars and a little more than twice as far again and what do you see?”

“Another star,” said Paul.

“Put it in,” said Uncle Henry, “and then draw another line from the upper of the first three stars in the direction of the handle of the ‘milk dipper’ in Sagittarius, the archer. Continue this about four times the length of the line that joins the first three stars together and you will find two fairly bright stars close together. That’s right, Paul; put in the star you find about halfway down the line, too. Now draw a line from the two fairly bright stars back in the direction of the tail of the sea-horse, or Delphinus, until it almost meets the first line you drew. There you will find another fairly bright star. Now it is easy to finish the eagle’s skeleton.”