Chapter XIV: Part 14

Now it was near dinner-time, and he hadn’t even got the butter yet; so he thought he’d best boil the porridge, and filled the pot with water, and hung it over the fire. When he had done that, he thought the cow might perhaps fall off the thatch and break her legs or her neck. So he got up on the house to tie her up. One end of the rope he made fast to the cow’s neck and the other he slipped down the chimney and tied round his own thigh; and he had to make haste, for the water now began to boil in the pot, and he had still to grind the oatmeal.

So he began to grind away; but while he was hard at it, down fell the cow off the house-top after all, and as she fell, she dragged the man up the chimney by the rope. There he stuck fast; and as for the cow, she hung half-way down the wall, swinging between heaven and earth, for she could neither get down nor up.

And now the goody had waited seven lengths and seven breadths for her husband to come and call them home to dinner; but never a call they had. At last she thought she’d waited long enough, and went home. But when she got there and saw the cow hanging in such an ugly place, she ran up and cut the rope in two with her scythe. But as she did this, down came her husband out of the chimney; and so when his old dame came inside the kitchen, there she found him standing on his head in the porridge pot.

DAPPLEGRIM

Once on a time there was a rich couple who had twelve sons; but the youngest when he was grown up, said he wouldn’t stay any longer at home, but be off into the world to try his luck. His father and mother said he did very well at home, and had better stay where he was. But no, he couldn’t rest; away he must and would go. So at last they gave him leave. And when he had walked a good bit, he came to a king’s palace, where he asked for a place, and got it.

Now the daughter of the king of that land had been carried off into the hill by a Troll, and the king had no other children; so he and all his land were in great grief and sorrow, and the king gave his word that any one who could set her free should have the Princess and half the kingdom. But there was no one who could do it, though many tried.

So when the lad had been there a year or so, he longed to go home again and see his father and mother, and back he went, but when he got home his father and mother were dead, and his brothers had shared all that the old people owned between them, and so there was nothing left for the lad.

“Shan’t I have anything at all, then, out of father’s and mother’s goods?” said the lad.

“Who could tell you were still alive, when you went gadding and wandering about so long?” said his brothers. “But all the same; there are twelve mares up on the hill which we haven’t yet shared among us; if you choose to take them for your share, you’re quite welcome.”

Yes! the lad was quite content; so he thanked his brothers, and went at once up on the hill, where the twelve mares were out at grass. And when he got up there and found them, each of them had a foal at her side, and one of them had besides, along with her, a big dapple-gray foal, which was so sleek that the sun shone from its coat.

“A fine fellow you are, my little foal”, said the lad.

“Yes”, said the foal; “but if you’ll only kill all the other foals, so that I may run and suck all the mares one year more, you’ll see how big and sleek I’ll be then.”

Yes! the lad was ready to do that; so he killed all those twelve foals, and went home again.

So when he came back the next year to look after his foal and mares, the foal was so fat and sleek, that the sun shone from its coat, and it had grown so big, the lad had hard work to mount it. As for the mares, they had each of them another foal.

“Well, it’s quite plain I lost nothing by letting you suck all my twelve mares”, said the lad to the yearling, “but now you’re big enough to come along with me.”

“No”, said the colt, “I must bide here a year longer; and now kill all the twelve foals, that I may suck all the mares this year too, and you’ll see how big and sleek I’ll be by summer.”

Yes! the lad did that; and next year when he went up on the hill to look after his colt and the mares, each mare had her foal, but the dapple colt was so tall the lad couldn’t reach up to his crest when he wanted to feel how fat he was; and so sleek he was too, that his coat glistened in the sunshine.

“Big and beautiful you were last year, my colt”, said the lad, “but this year you’re far grander. There’s no such horse in the king’s stable. But now you must come along with me.”

“No”, said Dapple again, “I must stay here one year more. Kill the twelve foals as before, that I may suck the mares the whole year, and then just come and look at me when the summer comes.”

Yes! the lad did that; he killed the foals, and went away home.

But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he was quite astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never thought a horse could be; for Dapple had to lie down on all fours before the lad could bestride him, and it was hard work to get up even then, although he lay flat; and his coat was so smooth and sleek, the sunbeams shone from it as from a looking-glass.

This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped up on his back, and when he came riding home to his brothers, they all clapped their hands and crossed themselves, for such a horse they had never heard of nor seen before.

“If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found”, said the lad, “you may have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their twelve foals into the bargain.” For you must know that this year too every mare had her foal.

Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such strong shoes under his horse, that the stones flew high aloft as he rode away across the hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden bridle, which gleamed and glistened a long way off.

“Now we’re off to the king’s palace”, said Dapplegrim—that was his name; “but mind you ask the king for a good stable and good fodder for me.”

Yes! the lad said he would mind; he’d be sure not to forget; and when he rode off from his brothers’ house, you may be sure it wasn’t long, with such a horse under him, before he got to the king’s palace.

When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and stared at the man who came riding along.

“Nay, nay!”, said he, “such a man and such a horse I never yet saw in all my life.”

But when the lad asked if he could get a place in the king’s household, the king was so glad he was ready to jump and dance as he stood on the steps.

Well, they said, perhaps he might get a place there.

“Aye”, said the lad, “but I must have good stable-room for my horse, and fodder that one can trust.”

Yes! he should have meadow-hay and oats, as much as Dapple could cram, and all the other knights had to lead their horses out of the stable that Dapplegrim might stand alone, and have it all to himself.

But it wasn’t long before all the others in the king’s household began to be jealous of the lad, and there was no end to the bad things they would have done to him, if they had only dared. At last they thought of telling the king he had said he was man enough to set the king’s daughter free—whom the Troll had long since carried away into the hill—if he only chose. The king called the lad before him, and said he had heard the lad said he was good to do so and so; so now he must go and do it. If he did it, he knew how the king had promised his daughter and half the kingdom, and that promise would be faithfully kept; if he didn’t, he should be killed.

The lad kept on saying he never said any such thing; but it was no good—the king wouldn’t even listen to him; and so the end of it was he was forced to say he’d go and try.

So he went into the stable, down in the mouth and heavy-hearted, and then Dapplegrim asked him at once why he was in such dumps.

Then the lad told him all, and how he couldn’t tell which way to turn:

“For as for setting the Princess free, that’s downright stuff.”

“Oh! but it might be done, perhaps”, said Dapplegrim. “I’ll help you through; but you must first have me well shod. You must go and ask for ten pound of iron and twelve pound of steel for the shoes, and one smith to hammer and another to hold.”

Yes, the lad did that, and got for answer “Yes!” He got both the iron and the steel, and the smiths, and so Dapplegrim was shod both strong and well, and off went the lad from the court-yard in a cloud of dust.

But when he came to the hill into which the Princess had been carried, the pinch was how to get up the steep wall of rock where the Troll’s cave was, in which the Princess had been hid. For you must know the hill stood straight up and down right on end, as upright as a house-wall, and as smooth as a sheet of glass.

The first time the lad went at it he got a little way up; but then Dapple’s fore-legs slipped, and down they went again, with a sound like thunder on the hill.

The second time he rode at it he got some way further up; but then one fore-leg slipped, and down they went with a crash like a landslip.

But the third time Dapple said:

“Now we must show our mettle”; and went at it again till the stones flew heaven-high about them, and so they got up.

Then the lad rode right into the cave at full speed, and caught up the Princess, and threw her over his saddle-bow and out and down again before the Troll had time even to get on his legs; and so the Princess was freed.

When the lad came back to the palace, the king was both happy and glad to get his daughter back; that you may well believe; but somehow or other, though I don’t know how, the others about the court had so brought it about that the king was angry with the lad after all.

“Thanks you shall have for freeing my Princess”, said he to the lad, when he brought the Princess into the hall, and made his bow.

“She ought to be mine as well as yours; for you’re a word-fast man, I hope”, said the lad.

“Aye, aye!” said the king, “have her you shall, since I said it; but first of all, you must make the sun shine into my palace hall.”

Now, you must know there was a high steep ridge of rock close outside the windows, which threw such a shade over the hall that never a sunbeam shone into it.

“That wasn’t in our bargain”, answered the lad; “but I see this is past praying against; I must e’en go and try my luck, for the Princess I must and will have.”

So down he went to Dapple, and told him what the king wanted, and Dapplegrim thought it might easily be done, but first of all he must be new shod; and for that ten pound of iron, and twelve pound of steel besides, were needed, and two smiths, one to hammer and the other to hold, and then they’d soon get the sun to shine into the palace hall.

So when the lad asked for all these things, he got them at once—the king couldn’t say nay for very shame; and so Dapplegrim got new shoes, and such shoes! Then the lad jumped upon his back, and off they went again; and for every leap that Dapplegrim gave, down sank the ridge fifteen ells into the earth, and so they went on till there was nothing left of the ridge for the king to see.

When the lad got back to the king’s palace, he asked the king if the Princess were not his now; for now no one could say that the sun didn’t shine into the hall. But then the others set the king’s back up again, and he answered the lad should have her of course, he had never thought of anything else; but first of all he must get as grand a horse for the bride to ride on to church as the bridegroom had himself.

The lad said the king hadn’t spoken a word about this before, and that he thought he had now fairly earned the Princess; but the king held to his own; and more, if the lad couldn’t do that he should lose his life; that was what the king said. So the lad went down to the stable in doleful dumps, as you may well fancy, and there he told Dapplegrim all about it; how the king had laid that task on him, to find the bride as good a horse as the bridegroom had himself, else he would lose his life.

“But that’s not so easy”, he said, “for your match isn’t to be found in the wide world.”

“Oh yes, I have a match”, said Dapplegrim; “but ’tisn’t so easy to find him, for he abides in Hell. Still we’ll try. And now you must go up to the king and ask for new shoes for me, ten pound of iron, and twelve pound of steel; and two smiths, one to hammer and one to hold; and mind you see that the points and ends of these shoes are sharp; and twelve sacks of rye, and twelve sacks of barley, and twelve slaughtered oxen, we must have with us; and mind, we must have the twelve ox-hides, with twelve hundred spikes driven into each; and, let me see, a big tar-barrel—that’s all we want.”

So the lad went up to the king and asked for all that Dapplegrim had said, and the king again thought he couldn’t say nay, for shame’s sake, and so the lad got all he wanted.

Well, he jumped up on Dapplegrim’s back, and rode away from the palace, and when he had ridden far far over hill and heath, Dapple asked:

“Do you hear anything?”

“Yes, I hear an awful hissing and rustling up in the air,” said the lad; “I think I’m getting afraid.”

“That’s all the wild birds that fly through the wood. They are sent to stop us; but just cut a hole in the corn-sacks, and then they’ll have so much to do with the corn, they’ll forget us quite.”

Yes! the lad did that; he cut holes in the corn-sacks, so that the rye and barley ran out on all sides. Then all the wild birds that were in the wood came flying round them so thick that the sunbeams grew dark; but as soon as they saw the corn, they couldn’t keep to their purpose, but flew down and began to pick and scratch at the rye and barley, and after that they began to fight among themselves. As for Dapplegrim and the lad, they forgot all about them, and did them no harm.

So the lad rode on and on—far far over mountain and dale, over sand-hills and moor. Then Dapplegrim began to prick up his ears again, and at last he asked the lad if he heard anything?

“Yes! now I hear such an ugly roaring and howling in the wood all round, it makes me quite afraid.”

“Ah!” said Dapplegrim, “that’s all the wild beasts that range through the wood, and they’re sent out to stop us. But just cast out the twelve carcasses of the oxen, that will give them enough to do, and so they’ll forget us outright.”

Yes! the lad cast out the carcasses, and then all the wild beasts in the wood, both bears, and wolves, and lions—all fell beasts of all kinds—came after them. But when they saw the carcasses, they began to fight for them among themselves till blood flowed in streams; but Dapplegrim and the lad they quite forgot.

So the lad rode far away, and they changed the landscape many many times, for Dapplegrim didn’t let the grass grow under him, as you may fancy. At last Dapple gave a great neigh.

“Do you hear anything?” he said.

“Yes, I hear something like a colt neighing loud, a long long way off”, answered the lad.

“That’s a full-grown colt then”, said Dapplegrim, “if we hear him neigh so loud such a long way off.”

After that they travelled a good bit, changing the landscape once or twice, maybe. Then Dapplegrim gave another neigh.

“Now listen, and tell me if you hear anything”, he said.

“Yes, now I hear a neigh like a full-grown horse”, answered the lad.

“Aye! aye!” said Dapplegrim, “you’ll hear him once again soon, and then you’ll hear he’s got a voice of his own.”

So they travelled on and on, and changed the landscape once or twice, perhaps, and then Dapplegrim neighed the third time; but before he could ask the lad if he heard anything, something gave such a neigh across the heathy hill-side, the lad thought hill and rock would surely be rent asunder.

“Now, he’s here!” said Dapplegrim; “make haste, now, and throw the ox hides, with the spikes in them, over me, and throw down the tar-barrel on the plain; then climb up into that great spruce-fir yonder. When it comes fire will flash out of both nostrils, and then the tar-barrel will catch fire. Now, mind what I say. If the flame rises, I win; if it falls, I lose; but if you see me winning take and cast the bridle—you must take it off me—over its head, and then it will be tame enough.”

So just as the lad had done throwing the ox hides, with the spikes, over Dapplegrim, and had cast down the tar-barrel on the plain, and had got well up into the spruce-fir, up galloped a horse, with fire flashing out of his nostrils, and the flame caught the tar-barrel at once. Then Dapplegrim and the strange horse began to fight till the stones flew heaven high. They fought and bit, and kicked, both with fore-feet and hind-feet, and sometimes the lad could see them, and sometimes he couldn’t; but at last the flame began to rise; for wherever the strange horse kicked or bit, he met the spiked hides, and at last he had to yield. When the lad saw that, he wasn’t long in getting down from the tree, and in throwing the bridle over its head, and then it was so tame you could hold it with a pack-thread.

And what do you think? that horse was dappled too, and so like Dapplegrim, you couldn’t tell which was which. Then the lad bestrode the new Dapple he had broken, and rode home to the palace, and old Dapplegrim ran loose by his side. So when he got home, there stood the king out in the yard.

“Can you tell me now”, said the lad, “which is the horse I have caught and broken, and which is the one I had before. If you can’t, I think your daughter is fairly mine.”

Then the king went and looked at both Dapples, high and low, before and behind, but there wasn’t a hair on one which wasn’t on the other as well. “No”, said the king, “that I can’t; and since you’ve got my daughter such a grand horse for her wedding, you shall have her with all my heart. But still, we’ll have one trial more, just to see whether you’re fated to have her. First, she shall hide herself twice, and then you shall hide yourself twice. If you can find out her hiding-place, and she can’t find out yours, why then you’re fated to have her, and so you shall have her.”

“That’s not in the bargain either”, said the lad; “but we must just try, since it must be so”; and so the Princess went off to hide herself first.

So she turned herself into a duck, and lay swimming on a pond that was close to the palace. But the lad only ran down to the stable, and asked Dapplegrim what she had done with herself.

“Oh, you only need to take your gun”, said Dapplegrim, “and go down to the brink of the pond, and aim at the duck which lies swimming about there, and she’ll soon show herself.”

So the lad snatched up his gun and ran off to the pond. “I’ll just take a pop at this duck”, he said, and began to aim at it.

“Nay, nay, dear friend, don’t shoot. It’s I”, said the Princess.

So he had found her once.

The second time the Princess turned herself into a loaf of bread, and laid herself on the table among four other loaves; and so like was she to the others, no one could say which was which.

But the lad went again down to the stable to Dapplegrim, and said how the Princess had hidden herself again, and he couldn’t tell at all what had become of her.

“Oh, just take and sharpen a good bread-knife”, said Dapplegrim,” and do as if you were going to cut in two the third loaf on the left hand of those four loaves which are lying on the dresser in the king’s kitchen, and you’ll find her soon enough.”

Yes! the was down in the kitchen in no time, and began to sharpen the biggest bread-knife he could lay hands on; then he caught hold of the third loaf on the left hand, and put the knife to it, as though he was going to cut it in two. I’ll just have a slice off this loaf”, he said,

Nay, dear friend”, said the Princess, “don’t cut. It’s I” So he had found her twice.

Then he was to go and hide; but he and Dapplegrim had settled it all so well beforehand, it wasn’t easy to find him. First he turned himself into a tick, and hid himself in Dapplegrim’s left nostril; and the Princess went about hunting him everywhere, high and low; at last she wanted to go into Dapplegrim’s stall, but he began to bite and kick, so that she daren’t go near him, and so she couldn’t find the lad.

“Well”, she said, “since I can’t find you, you must show where you are yourself”; and in a trice the lad stood there on the stable floor.

The second time Dapplegrim told him again what to do; and then he turned himself into a clod of earth, and stuck himself between Dapple’s hoof and shoe on the near forefoot. So the Princess hunted up and down, out and in, everywhere; at last she came into the stable, and wanted to go into Dapplegrim’s loose-box. This time he let her come up to him, and she pried high and low, but under his hoofs she couldn’t come, for he stood firm as a rock on his feet, and so she couldn’t find the lad.

“Well; you must just show yourself, for I’m sure I can’t find you”, said the Princess, and as she spoke the lad stood by her side on the stable floor.

“Now you are mine indeed”, said the lad; “for now you can see I’m fated to have you.” This he said both to the father and daughter.

“Yes; it is so fated”, said the king; “so it must be.” Then they got ready the wedding in right down earnest, and lost no time about it; and the lad got on Dapplegrim, and the Princess on Dapplegrim’s match, and then you may fancy they were not long on their way to the church.

FARMER WEATHERSKY

Once on a time there was a man and his wife, who had an only son, and his name was Jack. The old dame thought it high time for her son to go out into the world to learn a trade, and bade her husband be off with him.

“But all you do”, she said, “mind you bind him to some one who can teach him to be master above all masters”; and with that she put some food and a roll of tobacco into a bag, and packed them off.

Well! they went to many masters; but one and all said they could make the lad as good as themselves, but better they couldn’t make him. So when the man came home again to his wife with that answer, she said:

“I don’t care what you make of him; but this I say and stick to, you must bind him to some one where he can learn to be master above all masters”; and with that she packed up more food and another roll of tobacco, and father and son had to be off again.

Now when they had walked a while they got upon the ice, and there they met a man who came whisking along in a sledge, and drove a black horse.

“Whither away?” said the man.

“Well!” said the father, “I’m going to bind my son to some one who is good to teach him a trade; but my old dame comes of such fine folk, she will have him taught to be master above all masters.”

“Well met then”, said the driver; “I’m just the man for your money, for I’m looking out for such an apprentice. Up with you behind!” he added to the lad, and whisk! off they went, both of them, and sledge and horse, right up into the air.

“Nay, nay!” cried the lad’s father, “you haven’t told me your name, nor where you live.”

“Oh!” said the master, “I’m at home alike north and south, and east and west, and my name’s _Farmer Weathersky_. In a year and a day you may come here again, and then I’ll tell you if I like him.” So away they went through the air, and were soon out of sight.

So when the man got home, his old dame asked what had become of her son.

“Well”, said the man, “Heaven knows, I’m sure I don’t. They went up aloft”; and so he told her what had happened. But when the old dame heard that her husband couldn’t tell at all when her son’s apprenticeship would be out, nor whither he had gone, she packed him off again, and gave him another bag of food and another roll of tobacco.

So, when he had walked a bit, he came to a great wood, which stretched on and on all day as he walked through it. When it got dark he saw a great light, and he went towards it. After a long, long time he came to a little but under a rock, and outside stood an old hag drawing water out of a well with her nose, so long was it.

“Good evening, mother!” said the man.

“The same to you”, said the old hag. “It’s hundreds of years since any one called me mother.”

“Can I have lodging here to-night?” asked the man.

“No! that you can’t”, said she.

But then the man pulled out his roll of tobacco, lighted his pipe, and gave the old dame a whiff, and a pinch of snuff. Then she was so happy she began to dance for joy, and the end was, she gave the man leave to stop the night.

So next morning he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky. “No! she never heard tell of him, but she ruled over all the four-footed beasts; perhaps some of them might know him.” So she played them all home with a pipe she had, and asked them all, but there wasn’t one of them who knew anything about Farmer Weathersky.

“Well!” said the old hag, “there are three sisters of us; maybe one of the other two know where he lives. I’ll lend you my horse and sledge, and then you’ll be at her house by night; but it’s at least three hundred miles off, the nearest way.”

Then the man started off, and at night reached the house, and when he came there, there stood another old hag before the door, drawing water out of the well with her nose.

“Good evening, mother!” said the man.

“The same to you”, said she; “it’s hundreds of years since any one called me mother.”

“Can I lodge here to-night?” asked the man.

“No!” said the old hag.

But he took out his roll of tobacco, lighted his pipe, and gave the old dame a whiff, and a good pinch of snuff besides, on the back of her hand. Then she was so happy that she began to jump and dance for joy, and so the man got leave to stay the night. When that was over, he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky. “No! she had never heard tell of him; but she ruled all the fish in the sea; perhaps some of them might know something about him.” So she played them all home with a pipe she had, and asked them, but there wasn’t one of them who knew anything about Farmer Weathersky.

“Well, well!” said the old hag, “there’s one sister of us left; maybe she knows something about him. She lives six hundred miles off, but I’ll lend you my horse and sledge, and then you’ll get there by nightfall.”

Then the man started off, and reached the house by nightfall, and there he found another old hag who stood before the grate, and stirred the fire with her nose, so long and tough it was.

“Good evening, mother!” said the man.

“The same to you”, said the old hag; “it’s hundreds of years since any one called me mother.”

“Can I lodge here to-night?” asked the man.

“No”, said the old hag.

Then the man pulled out his roll of tobacco again, and lighted his pipe, and gave the old hag such a pinch of snuff it covered the whole back of her hand. Then she got so happy she began to dance for joy, and so the man got leave to stay. But when the night was over, he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky. She never heard tell of him she said; but she ruled over all the birds of the air, and so she played them all home with a pipe she had, and when she had mustered them all, the Eagle was missing. But a little while after he came flying home, and when she asked him, he said he had just come straight from Farmer Weathersky. Then the old hag said he must guide the man thither; but the eagle said he must have something to eat first, and besides he must rest till the next day; he was so tired with flying that long way, he could scarce rise from the earth.

So when he had eaten his fill and taken a good rest, the old hag pulled a feather out of the Eagle’s tail, and put the man there in its stead; so the Eagle flew off with the man, and flew, and flew, but they didn’t reach Farmer Weathersky’s house before midnight.

So when they got there, the Eagle said

“There are heaps of dead bodies lying about outside but you mustn’t mind them. Inside the house every man Jack of them are so sound asleep, “t will be hard work to wake them; but you must go straight to the table drawer, and take out of it three crumbs of bread, and when you hear some one snoring loud, pull three feathers out of his head; he won’t wake for all that.”

So the man did as he was told, and after he had taken the crumbs of bread, he pulled out the first feather.

“OOF!” growled Farmer Weathersky, for it was he who snored.

So the man pulled out another feather.

“OOF!” he growled again.

But when he pulled out the third, Farmer Weathersky roared so, the man thought roof and wall would have flown asunder, but for all that the snorer slept on.

After that the Eagle told him what he was to do. He went to the yard, and there at the stable-door he stumbled against a big gray stone, and that he lifted up; underneath it lay three chips of wood, and those he picked up too; then he knocked at the stable-door, and it opened of itself. Then he threw down the three crumbs of bread, and a hare came and ate them up; that hare he caught and kept. After that the Eagle bade him pull three feathers out of his tail, and put the hare, the stone, the chips, and himself there instead, and then he would fly away home with them all.

So when the Eagle had flown a long way, he lighted on a rock to rest.

“Do you see anything?” it asked.

“Yes”, said the man, “I see a flock of crows coming flying after us.”

“We’d better be off again, then”, said the Eagle, who flew away.

After a while it asked again:

“Do you see anything now?”

“Yes”, said the man; “now the crows are close behind us.”

“Drop now the three feathers you pulled out of his head, said the Eagle.

Well, the man dropped the feathers, and as soon as ever he dropped them they became a flock of ravens which drove the crows home again. Then the Eagle flew on far away with the man, and at last it lighted on another stone to rest.

“Do you see anything?” it said.

“I’m not sure”, said the man; “I fancy I see something coming far far away”.

“We’d better get on then”, said the Eagle; and after a while it said again:

“Do you see anything?”

“Yes”, said the man, “now he’s close at our heels.”

“Now, you must let fall the chips of wood which you took from under the gray stone at the stable door”, said the Eagle.

Yes! the man let them fall, and they grew at once up into tall thick wood, so that Farmer Weathersky had to go back home to fetch an axe to hew his way through. While he did this, the Eagle flew ever so far, but when it got tired, it lighted on a fir to rest.

“Do you see anything?” it said.

“Well! I’m not sure”, said the man; “but I fancy I catch a glimpse of something far away.”

“We’d best be off then”, said the Eagle; and off it flew as fast as it could. After a while it said:

“Do you see anything now?”

“Yes! now he’s close behind us”, said the man.

“Now, you must drop the big stone you lifted up at the stable door”, said the Eagle.

The man did so, and as it fell it became a great high mountain, which Farmer Weathersky had to break his way through. When he had got half through the mountain, he tripped and broke one of his legs, and so he had to limp home again and patch it up.

But while he was doing this, the Eagle flew away to the man’s house with him and the hare, and as soon as they got home, the man went into the churchyard and sprinkled Christian mould over the hare, and lo! it turned into “Jack”, his son.

Well, you may fancy the old dame was glad to get her son again, but still she wasn’t easy in her mind about his trade, and she wouldn’t rest till he gave her a proof that he was “master above all masters”.

So when the fair came round, the lad changed himself into a bay horse, and told his father to lead him to the fair. “Now, when any one comes”, he said, “to buy me, you may ask a hundred dollars for me; but mind you don’t forget to take the headstall off me; if you do, Farmer Weathersky will keep me for ever, for he it is who will come to deal with you.”

So it turned out. Up came a horse-dealer, who had a great wish to deal for the horse, and he gave a hundred dollars down for him; but when the bargain was struck, and Jack’s father had pocketed the money, the horse-dealer wanted to have the headstall. “Nay, nay!” said the man, “there’s nothing about that in the bargain; and besides, you can’t have the headstall, for I’ve other horses at home to bring to town to-morrow.”

So each went his way; but they hadn’t gone far before Jack took his own shape and ran away, and when his father got home, there sat Jack in the ingle.

Next day he turned himself into a brown horse, and told his father to drive him to the fair.

“And when any one comes to buy me, you may ask two hundred dollars for me—he’ll give that and treat you besides; but whatever you do, and however much you drink, don’t forget to take the headstall off me, else you’ll never set eyes on me again.”

So all happened as he had said; the man got two hundred dollars for the horse and a glass of drink besides, and when the buyer and seller parted, it was as much as he could do to remember to take off the headstall. But the buyer and the horse hadn’t got far on the road before Jack took his own shape, and when the man got home, there sat Jack in the ingle.

The third day, it was the same story over again: the lad turned himself into a black horse, and told his father some one would come and bid three hundred dollars for him, and fill his skin with meat and drink besides; but however much he ate or drank, he was to mind and not forget to take the headstall off, else he’d have to stay with Farmer Weathersky all his life long.

“No, no; I’ll not forget, never fear”, said the man.

So when he came to the fair, he got three hundred dollars for the horse, and as it wasn’t to be a dry bargain, Farmer Weathersky made him drink so much that he quite forgot to take the headstall off, and away went Farmer Weathersky with the horse. Now when he had gone a little way, Farmer Weathersky thought he would just stop and have another glass of brandy; so he put a barrel of red-hot nails under his horse’s nose, and a sieve of oats under his tail, hung the halter, upon a hook, and went into the inn. So the horse stood there and stamped and pawed, and snorted and reared. Just then out came a lassie, who thought it a shame to treat a horse so.

“Oh, poor beastie”, she said, “what a cruel master you must have to treat you so”, and as she said this she pulled the halter off the hook, so that the horse might turn round and taste the oats.

“I’M AFTER YOU”, roared Farmer Weathersky, who came rushing out of the door.

But the horse had already shaken off the headstall, and jumped into a duck-pond, where he turned himself into a tiny fish. In went Farmer Weathersky after him, and turned himself into a great pike. Then Jack turned himself into a dove, and Farmer Weathersky made himself into a hawk, and chased and struck at the dove. But just then a Princess stood at the window of the palace and saw this struggle.

“Ah! poor dove”, she cried, “if you only knew what I know, you’d fly to me through this window.”

So the dove came flying in through the window, and turned itself into Jack again, who told his own tale.

“Turn yourself into a gold ring, and put yourself on my finger”, said the Princess.

“Nay, nay!” said Jack, “that’ll never do, for then Farmer Weathersky will make the king sick, and then there’ll be no one who can make him well again till Farmer Weathersky comes and cures him, and then, for his fee, he’ll ask for that gold ring.”

“Then I’ll say I had it from my mother, and can’t part with it”, said the Princess.

Well, Jack turned himself into a gold ring, and put himself on the Princess’ finger, and so Farmer Weathersky couldn’t get at him. But then followed what the lad had foretold; the king fell sick, and there wasn’t a doctor in the kingdom who could cure him till Farmer Weathersky came, and he asked for the ring off the Princess’ finger for his fee. So the king sent a messenger to the Princess for the ring; but the Princess said she wouldn’t part with it, her mother had left it her. When the king heard that, he flew into a rage, and said he would have the ring, whoever left it to her.

“Well”, said the Princess, “it’s no good being cross about it. I can’t get it off, and if you must have the ring, you must take my finger too.”

“If you’ll let me try, I’ll soon get the ring off”, said Farmer Weathersky.

“No, thanks, I’ll try myself”, said the Princess, and flew off to the grate and put ashes on her finger. Then the ring slipped off and was lost among the ashes. So Farmer Weathersky turned himself into a cock, who scratched and pecked after the ring in the grate, till he was up to the ears in ashes. But while he was doing this, Jack turned himself into a fox, and bit off the cock’s head; and so if the Evil One was in Farmer Weathersky, it is all over with him now.

LORD PETER

Once on a time there was a poor couple, and they had nothing in the world but three sons. What the names the two elder had I can’t say, but the youngest he was called Peter. So when their father and mother died, the sons were to share what was left, but there was nothing but a porridge-pot, a griddle, and a cat.

The eldest, who was to have first choice, he took the pot; “for”, said he, “whenever I lend the pot to any one to boil porridge, I can always get leave to scrape it”.

The second took the griddle; “for”, said he, “whenever I lend it to any one, I’ll always get a morsel of dough to make a bannock.”

But the youngest, he had no choice left him; if he was to choose anything it must be the cat.

“Well!” said he, “if I lend the cat to any one I shan’t get much by that; for if pussy gets a drop of milk, she’ll want it all herself. Still, I’d best take her along with me; I shouldn’t like her to go about here and starve.”

So the brothers went out into the world to try their luck, and each took his own way; but when the youngest had gorse a while, the cat said:

“Now you shall have a good turn, because you wouldn’t let me stay behind in the old cottage and starve. Now, I’m off to the wood to lay hold of a fine fat head of game, and then you must go up to the king’s palace that you see yonder, and say you are come with a little present for the king; and when he asks who sends it, you must say, ‘Why, who should it be from but Lord Peter.’”

Well! Peter hadn’t waited long before back came the cat with a reindeer from the wood; she had jumped up on the reindeer’s head, between his horns, and said, “If you don’t go straight to the king’s palace I’ll claw your eyes out.”

So the reindeer had to go whether he liked it or no.

And when Peter got to the palace he went into the kitchen with the deer, and said: “Here I’m come with a little present for the king, if he won’t despise it.”

Then the King went out into the kitchen, and when he saw the fine plump reindeer, he was very glad.

“But, my dear friend”, he said, “who in the world is it that sends me such a fine gift?”

“Oh!” said Peter, “who should send it but Lord Peter.”

“Lord Peter! Lord Peter!” said the King. “Pray tell me where he lives”; for he thought it a shame not to know so great a man. But that was just what the lad wouldn’t tell him; he daren’t do it, he said, because his master had forbidden him.

So the King gave him a good bit of money to drink his health, and bade him be sure and say all kind of pretty things, and many thanks for the present to his master when he got home.

Next day the Cat went again into the wood, and jumped up on a red deer’s head, and sat between his horns, and forced him to go to the palace. Then Peter went again into the kitchen, and said he was come with a little present for the King, if he would be pleased to take it. And the King was still more glad to get the red deer than he had been to get the reindeer, and asked again who it was that sent so fine a present.

“Why, it’s Lord Peter, of course”, said the lad; but when the King wanted to know where Lord Peter lived, he got the same answer as the day before; and this day, too, he gave Peter a good lump of money to drink his health with.

The third day the Cat came with an elk. And so when Peter got into the palace kitchen, and said he had a little present for the King, if he’d be pleased to take it, the King came out at once into the kitchen; and when he saw the grand big elk, he was so glad he scarce knew which leg to stand on; and this day, too, he gave Peter many many more dollars—at least a hundred. He wished now, once for all, to know where this Lord Peter lived, and asked and asked about this thing and that, but the lad said he daren’t say, for his master’s sake, who had strictly forbidden him to tell.

“Well, then”, said the King, “beg Lord Peter to come and see me.”

Yes, the lad would take that message; but when Peter got out into the yard again, and met the Cat, he said,

“A pretty scrape you’ve got me into now, for here’s the King, who wants me to come and see him, and you know I’ve nothing to go in but these rags I stand and walk in.”

“Oh, don’t be afraid about that”, said the Cat; “in three days you shall have coach and horses, and fine clothes, so fine that the gold falls from them, and then you may go and see the king very well. But mind, whatever you see in the king’s palace, you must say you have far finer and grander things of your own. Don’t forget that.”

No, no, Peter would bear that in mind, never fear.

So when three days were over, the Cat came with a coach and horses, and clothes, and all that Peter wanted, and altogether it was as grand as anything you ever set eyes on; so off he set, and the Cat ran alongside the coach. The King met him well and graciously; but whatever the King offered him, and whatever he showed him, Peter said, ’twas all very well, but he had far finer and better things in his own house. The King seemed not quite to believe this, but Peter stuck to what he said, and at last the King got so angry, he couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Now I’ll go home with you”, he said, “and see if it be true what you’ve been telling me, that you have far finer and better things of your own. But if you’ve been telling a pack of lies, Heaven help you, that’s all I say.”

“Now, you’ve got me into a fine scrape”, said Peter to the Cat, “for here’s the King coming home with me; but my home, that’s not so easy to find, I think.”

“Oh! never mind”, said the Cat; “only do you drive after me as I run before.”

So off they set; first Peter, who drove after his Cat, and then the King and all his court.

But when they had driven a good bit, they came to a great flock of fine sheep, that had wool so long it almost touched the ground.

“If you’ll only say”, said the Cat to the Shepherd, “this flock of sheep belongs to Lord Peter, when the King asks you, I’ll give you this silver spoon”, which she had taken with her from the King’s palace.

Yes! he was willing enough to do that. So when the king came up, he said to the lad who watched the sheep,

“Well, I never saw so large and fine a flock of sheep in my life! Whose is it? my little lad.”

“Why”, said the lad, “whose should it be but Lord Peter’s.”

A little while after they came to a great, great herd of fine brindled kine, who were all so sleek the sun shone from them.

“If you’ll only say”, said the Cat to the neat-herd, “this herd is Lord Peter’s, when the King asks you, I’ll give you this silver ladle”; and the ladle too she had taken from the King’s palace.

“Yes! with all my heart”, said the neat-herd.

So when the King came up, he was quite amazed at the fine fat herd, for such a herd he had never seen before, and so he asked the neat-herd who owned those brindled kine.

“Why! who should own them but Lord Peter”, said the neat-herd.

So they went on a little further, and came to a great, great drove of horses, the finest you ever saw, six of each colour, bay, and black, and brown, and chesnut.

“If you’ll only say this drove of horses is Lord Peter’s when the King asks you”, said the Cat, “I’ll give you this silver stoop”; and the stoop too she had taken from the palace.

Yes! the lad was willing enough; and so when the King came up, he was quite amazed at the grand drove of horses, for the matches of such horses he had never yet set eyes on, he said.

So he asked the lad who watched them, whose all these blacks, and bays, and browns, and chesnuts were?

“Whose should they be”, said the lad, “but Lord Peter’s.”

So when they had gone a good bit farther, they came to a castle; first there was a gate of tin, and next there was a gate of silver, and next a gate of gold. The castle itself was of silver, and so dazzling white, that it quite hurt one’s eyes to look at in the sunbeams which fell on it just as they reached it.

So they went into it, and the Cat told Peter to say this was his house. As for the castle inside, it was far finer than it looked outside, for everything was pure gold—chairs, and tables, and benches, and all. And when the King had gone all over it, and seen everything high and low, he got quite shameful and downcast.

“Yes”, he said at last; “Lord Peter has everything far finer than I have, there’s no gainsaying that”, and so he wanted to be off home again.

But Peter begged him to stay to supper, and the King stayed, but he was sour, and surly the whole time.