The Magic Rope
by Roberta Louise Underwood Booth Beauregard
Published in the 'Golden Magazine', July, 1965
ONCE UPON a time, in a far-off land, there lived a strange little man named Sumo. He had no family and lived alone in a small, thatched hut on the outskirts of a village. Except for the children, Sumo never mingled with the other villagers, and he left his hut only when he went to the local merchant to sell the rope that he made.
Sumo had been a rope-maker for many years. He would take the long fibers from the hemp plants which grew nearby and his nimble fingers would fly as he skillfully twisted the fibers into lengths of rope. He believed he made the finest rope in the whole world, and it was indeed of a very good quality.
The children of the village loved Sumo. Every day a group of them could be seen sitting around him outside his hut, watching as he worked. He enjoyed having the children come to visit him and he would tell them fascinating tales. Sometimes he told stories of other lands, sometimes stories about the sea, but the ones the children liked best were about magic. Their eyes would light up as they listened.
One day Sumo was busily working and the children came and gathered around him as usual. No sooner were they seated than they started asking him to tell a story. He smiled at all the eager faces and thought how lucky he was to have such fine children visit him every day.
“First,” said Sumo, “I must get more fibers for my rope.”
As he walked over to the racks where the fibers were drying in the sun, he thought to himself, “I am working much faster than usual today. These fibers seem to twist themselves into place.” He collected an armful and returned to where the children were anxiously waiting.
Sumo settled himself upon the ground and started working again. “Now I shall tell you about a prince and his magic ring.”
Suddenly Sumo stopped talking. A strange look came over his face as he picked up the rope he had made and held it out in front of him as if examining it. The children were puzzled, for they had never seen Sumo like this before and they waited to see what he would do next. Then he said in a low voice, “Whoever owns this rope shall have good fortune.”
Just as suddenly, Sumo put the rope down again and began the story. The children soon forgot his strange words as they became interested in the tale—that is, all but a few of the older children. That evening they told their parents what Sumo had said and tried to persuade them to buy his rope. But, as had happened many times before, the parents just tapped their heads and said, “Sumo sits too long in the sun. He speaks nonsense and you should not believe all he says.”
The next morning Sumo walked to the village carrying his new rope over his arm. He went straight to the rope merchant. He did not say a word about this being a special rope and the merchant, after he examined it, gave Sumo the usual few coins in payment. On his way home, Sumo wondered who would be the owner of this rope and he smiled, for he knew it would bring great happiness to someone.
ONCE A MONTH, the merchant in the village would load his wagon with rope and take it to a nearby seaport . Here he would meet a man named Lopez and trade the rope for supplies which he would bring back and sell to the villagers .
Lopez had a shop on the waterfront where he traded with people from all over the world. One day an old sea captain entered the shop and saw Sumo’s rope hanging from a nail on the wall. “This is very fine rope,” he said. “I would like a piece long enough to make a swing for a little girl.”
“Yes, sir,” said Lopez, “this rope will make a very good swing for a little girl, for it is strong and will not break easily.” He cut a length several feet long and the Captain paid him and left.
The Captain lived in a small New England town and this was his last voyage. He had spent most of his life at sea, but now he was getting old and wanted to spend the rest of his time with his daughter and her husband, and Pammie, his only grandchild.
Pammie was a beautiful child with blue eyes and golden curls. Although she was eight years old, she could not walk, for she was lame. Her mother and father had taken her to several doctors and they all said the same thing—she would never walk and would have to spend her life in a wheelchair. The Captain loved Pammie dearly, and between his voyages they enjoyed many happy hours together.
After several weeks, the Captain’s ship arrived home and he hurried to his daughter’s house. As he walked up the path, Pammie came to meet him in her wheelchair calling, “Cappie! Cappie!” He picked her up in his strong arms and twirled her around as she squealed with delight. Then he gently put her back in her chair and wheeled her up to the house, both of them talking excitedly.
After Cappie had greeted his daughter and her husband, he opened his big sea bag and brought out gifts for everyone. There was a lovely silk kimono for his daughter, hand-carved bookends for his son-in-law, and for Pammie, a doll from a South Sea island, Japanese sandals, and a Chinese parasol. Then Cappie took out the rope he had bought and said to Pammie, “I know this doesn’t look like a very pretty gift, but it was made by hand in a small village on the other side of the world and with it I shall make you a swing.”
Everyone was pleased with the gifts and Pammie was especially happy at the thought of having a swing.
The next morning Cappie and Pammie were up early, and after breakfast they went out to look for a good place to hang a swing. They found that the maple tree in the back yard had a sturdy branch that was just high enough. Pammie was so excited she could hardly wait for the swing to be made. Soon Cappie lifted her from her chair and placed her on the swing for her first ride. Her little legs hung limply.
“Hold on tightly,” he said. “I won’t let go of you until you learn to keep your balance on the seat.”
Cappie started to push her gently, but immediately Pammie cried, “Let go, Cappie, I can swing by myself!”
As if by magic, Pammie’s legs were no longer weak and useless, but were suddenly strong as she kicked them back and forth while she swung. Cappie could hardly believe what he saw and he shouted to her mother and father to come and see.
When they saw Pammie’s laughing face and strong legs they were the happiest parents in the world. Then Pammie jumped from the swing and walked to Cappie and her parents. From that day on, she never had to use her wheelchair again.
IN THE SEAPORT town near Sumo’s village there lived a boy named Peter. His father and mother were missionaries, and they hoped that someday they would be able to send Peter away to a big university where he could study to be a doctor. He was a bright boy and he wanted to be a doctor more than anything else.
One summer, when Peter was twelve, his parents went to a neighboring village to help the natives who were suffering from a serious sickness. They had done this many times before in their work, but they would never allow Peter to go with them when there was any danger. Peter stayed with an old friend, Mr. Andrews, until they returned. But this time they did not come back, for after two days of hard work they also became sick, and died.
When Peter heard the news, he was very sad. He thought, “If only I were a doctor, I could help stop some of the sickness in the world.” His future, however, looked very dark, for he had very little money. There was only enough to pay his passage to London where he would live with his Aunt Mary and Uncle Bill and their children.
His friend, Mr. Andrews, was very kind to Peter and helped him to get ready for his long trip. He didn’t have much to pack, only his clothes, a few books, and pictures of his parents. They packed these in an old trunk that had belonged to Peter’s father. When they tried to close the trunk, they found the latch was broken and the cover of the trunk would not stay down. Finally Peter went to Mr. Lopez’s shop to buy a piece of rope.
“I have just the thing for you,” Lopez said. He reached up for Sumo’s rope. It was still very long, so he cut it in half and, handing one half to Peter, said, “This should be just right for your trunk.”
The next day Peter left for London. He was very lonesome during the ocean trip and was glad when the ship docked, as he was anxious to meet his new family.
Uncle Bill met Peter as he came off the ship, and took him to his new home. Aunt Mary greeted him with a big kiss and his eight cousins welcomed him noisily. The house was crowded and shabby, but Peter knew that he would never be lonely here. After a hot supper Aunt Mary said, “Peter, you will share a room with Billy, Ned, and George. They will help you carry your trunk upstairs and we will unpack it tomorrow .”
Peter was glad that he would share a room with these boys for he had liked them immediately. Billy was fourteen, Ned was eleven and George was twelve, the same as he. The four of them went to the front hallway to get the trunk. They were all strong boys, but try as they would, they could not lift it. Peter couldn’t understand it, for he had not packed anything heavy. They called Uncle Bill.
He laughed and said, “I think you boys must be getting weak. I carried this trunk in from the car all by myself and it wasn’t heavy.” He stooped down and with his shoulder against it, tried with all his strength to lift it, but the trunk would not move. “This is very strange,” he said.
By now, the whole family had gathered around and everyone tried to move the trunk, but it was too heavy.
“Let’s open it here,” said Peter and he started untying the rope. He lifted the cover and gasped in amazement. There before their eyes were more riches than any of them had ever imagined! There were beautiful jewels and silk dresses for Aunt Mary, fancy dresses for all the girls, fine woolen suits for Uncle Bill and all the boys, and many, many bags of gold. The only things that were unchanged were the pictures of Peter’s parents, but they were now in solid gold frames.
It was some time before anyone could speak. Then Peter said, “It must be magic!” That night Peter was so happy he could hardly sleep, for he knew that his new family would now have an easier life and he would be able to become a doctor.
NOW THERE was still one length of Sumo’s rope left in Lopez’s shop. One day an American store owner came into the shop and said he would like to buy all the handmade rope that Lopez had. Lopez was happy to make such a big sale and helped him load the rope onto a truck and take it to a waiting ship.
No one knows the name of the man who bought the rope or where in America his store is located. Could it be in your town? Do you suppose Sumo’s rope is still in the store or has someone bought it? Maybe it is tied to some little boy’s sled or maybe a little girl has it for a jump rope. I wonder!
