Tales from the Fjeld: A Second Series of Popular Tales

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Title: Tales from the Fjeld: A Second Series of Popular Tales

Author: Peter Christen Asbjørnsen

Translator: Sir George Webbe Dasent

Release date: June 11, 2011 [eBook #36385]
Most recently updated: January 7, 2021

Language: English

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Produced by Delphine Lettau, Clive Pickton, Mary Meehan
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
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TALES FROM THE FJELD.

A SECOND SERIES OF POPULAR TALES,

FROM THE NORSE OF

P. CHR. ASBJOeRNSEN.

BY G. W. DASENT, D.C.L.

AUTHOR OF "TALES FROM THE NORSE," "ANNALS OF AN EVENTFUL LIFE," ETC.

LONDON:
CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.
1874.

[_All Rights Reserved._]

PREFACE.

The Tales contained in this volume form a second series of those
"Popular Tales from the Norse," which have been received with much
favour in this country, and of which a Third Edition will shortly be
published. A part of them appeared some years ago in _Once a Week_, from
which they are now reprinted by permission of the proprietors, the Norse
originals, from which they were translated, having been communicated by
the translator's friend, P. Chr. Asbjoernsen, to various Christmas books,
published in Christiania. In 1871, Mr. Asbjoernsen collected those
scattered Tales and added some more to them, which he published under
the title "Norske Folke-Eventyr fortalte of P. Chr. Asbjoernsen, Ny
Samling." It is from this new series as revised by the collector that
the present version has been made. In it the translator has trodden in
the path laid down in the first series of "Tales from the Norse," and
tried to turn his Norse original into mother English, which any one that
runs may read.

That this plan has met with favour abroad as well as at home is proved
by the fact that large editions of the "Tales from the Norse" have been
printed by Messrs. Appleton in New York, by which, no doubt, that
appropriating firm have been great gainers, though the translator's
share in their profits has amounted to nothing. It is more grateful to
him to find that in Norway, the cradle of these beautiful stories, his
efforts have been warmly appreciated by Messrs Asbjoernsen and Moe, who,
in their preface to the Third Edition, Christiania, 1866, speak in the
following terms of his version: "In France and England collections have
appeared in which our Tales have not only been correctly and faultlessly
translated, but even rendered with exemplary truth and care,--nay, with
thorough mastery; the English translation, by George Webbe Dasent, is
the best and happiest rendering of our Tales that has appeared, and it
has in England been more successful and become far more widely known
than the originals here at home." Then speaking of the Introduction,
Messrs. Asbjoernsen and Moe go on to say, "We have here added the end of
this Introduction to show how the translator has understood and grasped
the relation in which these Tales stand to Norse nature and the life of
the people, and how they have sprung out of both."

The title of this volume, "Tales from the Fjeld," arose out of the form
in which they were published in _Once a Week_. The translator began by
setting them in a frame formed by the imaginary adventures of English
sportsmen on the Fjeld or Fells in Norway. "Karin and Anders," and
"Edward and I," are therefore the creatures of his imagination, but the
Tales are the Tales of Asbjoernsen. After a while he grew weary of the
setting and framework, and when about a third of the volume had been
thus framed, he resolved to let the Tales speak for themselves and stand
alone as in the first series of "Popular Tales from the Norse."

With regard to the bearing of these Tales on the question of the
diffusion of race and tradition, much might be said, but as he has
already traversed the same ground in the Introduction to the "Tales from
the Norse," he reserves what he has to say on that point till the Third
Edition of those Tales shall appear. It will be enough here to mention
that several of the Tales now published are variations, though very
interesting ones, from some of those in the first series. Others are
rather the harvest of popular experience than mythical tales, and on the
whole the character of this volume is more jocose and less poetical than
that of its predecessor. In a word, they are, many of them, what the
Germans would call "Schwaenke."

Of this kind are the Tales called "The Charcoal Burner," "Our Parish
Clerk," and "The Parson and the Clerk." In "Goody 'gainst the Stream,"
and "Silly Men and Cunning Wives," the reader, skilled in popular
fiction, will find two tales of Indian origin, both of which are
wide-spread in the folklore of the West, and make their appearance in
the Facetiae of Poggio. The Beast Epic, in which Jacob Grimm so
delighted, is largely represented, and the stories of that kind in this
volume are among the best that have been collected. One of the most
mythical and at the same time one of the most domestic stories of those
now published, is, perhaps, "The Father of the Family," which ought
rather to have been called "The Seventh, the Father of the Family," as
it is not till the wayfarer has inquired seven times from as many
generations of old men that he finds the real father of the family Mr.
Ralston, the accomplished writer and editor of "Russian Popular Tales,"
has pointed out in an article on these Norse Tales, which appeared in
_Fraser's Magazine_ for December, 1872, the probable antiquity of this
story, which he classes with the Rigsmal of the Elder Edda. That it was
known in England two centuries ago is proved by the curious fact that it
has got woven into the life of "Old Jenkins," whose mythical age as well
as that of "Old Parr," Mr. Thoms has recently demolished in his book on
the "Longevity of Man." The story as quoted by Mr. Thoms, from
Clarkson's "History and Antiquities of Richmond," in Yorkshire, is so
curious that it is worth while to give it at length. There had been some
legal dispute in which the evidence of Old Jenkins, as confessedly "the
oldest inhabitant" was required, and the agent of Mrs. Wastell, one of
the parties, went to visit the old man. "Previous to Jenkins going to
York," says Mr. Clarkson, "when the agent of Mrs. Wastell went to him to
find out what account he could give of the matter in dispute, he saw an
old man sitting at the door, to whom he told his business. The old man
said 'he could remember nothing about it, but that he would find his
father in the house, who perhaps could satisfy him.' When he went in he
saw another old man sitting over the fire, bowed down with years, to
whom he repeated his former questions. With some difficulty he made him
understand what he had said, and after a little while got the following
answer, which surprised him very much: 'That he knew nothing about it,
but that if he would go into the yard he would meet with his father, who
perhaps could tell him.' The agent upon this thought that he had met
with a race of Antediluvians. However into the yard he went, and to his
no small astonishment found a venerable man with a long beard, and a
broad leathern belt about him, chopping sticks. To this man he again
told his business, and received such information as in the end recovered
the royalty in dispute." "The fact is," adds Mr. Thoms, "that the story
of Jenkins' son and grandson is only a Yorkshire version of the story as
old or older than Jenkins himself, namely, of the very old man who was
seen crying because his father had beaten him for throwing stones at his
grandfather." On which it may be remarked, that however old Old Jenkins
may have been, this story has probably out-lived as many generations as
popular belief gave years to his life. Another old story is "Death and
the Doctor," which centuries ago got entangled with the history of the
family of Bethune, in Scotland, who were supposed to possess an
hereditary gift of leechcraft, derived in the same way. "Friends in Life
and Death," is a Norse variation of Rip van Winkle, which is nothing
more nor less than a Dutch popular tale, while the lassie who won the
prince by fulfilling his conditions of coming to him, "not driving and
not riding, not walking and not carried, not fasting and not full-fed,
not naked and not clad, not by daylight and not by night," has its
variations in many lands. It is no little proof of the wonderful skill
of Hans Christian Andersen, and at the same time of his power to enter
into the spirit of popular fiction, that he has worked the tale of "The
Companion" into one of his most happy stories.

In this volume, as in the former one, the translator, while striving to
be as truthful as possible, has in the case of some characters adopted
the English equivalent rather than a literal rendering from the Norse.
Thus "Askpot" is still "Boots," the youngest of the family on whom falls
all the dirty work, and not "Cinderbob" or the Scottish "Ashiepet."
"Tyrihans" he has rendered almost literally "Taper Tom," the name
meaning not slender or limber Tom, but Tom who sits in the ingle and
makes tapers or matchwood of resinous fir to be used instead of candles.
Some of the Tales, such as "The Charcoal Burner," "Our Parish Clerk,"
and "The Sheep and the Pig who set up House," are filled with proverbs
which it was often very difficult to render. On this and other points it
must be left to others to say whether he has succeeded or not. But if
his readers, young and old, will only remember that things which seem
easiest are often the hardest to do, they will be as gentle readers as
those he desired to find for his first volume, and so long as they are
of that spirit he is sure to be well pleased.

_October 18th, 1873._

CONTENTS.

OSBORN'S PIPE

THE HAUNTED MILL, AND THE HONEST PENNY.
THE HAUNTED MILL
THE HONEST PENNY

THE DEATH OF CHANTICLEER, AND THE GREEDY CAT.
THE DEATH OF CHANTICLEER
THE GREEDY CAT

PETER THE FORESTER AND GRUMBLEGIZZARD.
GRUMBLEGIZZARD

PETER'S THREE TALES.
FATHER BRUIN IN THE CORNER
REYNARD AND CHANTICLEER
GOODMAN AXEHAFT

THE COMPANION.
THE COMPANION

THE SHOPBOY AND HIS CHEESE, AND PEIK.
THE SHOPBOY AND HIS CHEESE
PEIK

KARIN'S THREE STORIES.
DEATH AND THE DOCTOR
THE WAY OF THE WORLD
THE PANCAKE

PETER'S BEAST STORIES.
PORK AND HONEY
THE HARE AND THE HEIRESS
SLIP ROOT, CATCH REYNARD'S FOOT
BRUIN GOODFELLOW
BRUIN AND REYNARD PARTNERS
REYNARD WANTS TO TASTE HORSE-FLESH

MASTER TOBACCO

THE CHARCOAL BURNER

THE BOX WITH SOMETHING PRETTY IN IT

THE THREE LEMONS

THE PRIEST AND THE CLERK

FRIENDS IN LIFE AND DEATH

THE FATHER OF THE FAMILY

THREE YEARS WITHOUT WAGES

OUR PARISH CLERK

SILLY MEN AND CUNNING WIVES

TAPER TOM

THE TROLLS IN HEDALE WOOD

THE SKIPPER AND OLD NICK

GOODY GAINST-THE-STREAM

HOW TO WIN A PRINCE

BOOTS AND THE BEASTS

THE SWEETHEART IN THE WOOD

HOW THEY GOT HAIRLOCK HOME

OSBORN BOOTS AND MR. GLIBTONGUE

THIS IS THE LAD WHO SOLD THE PIG

THE SHEEP AND THE PIG WHO SET UP HOUSE

THE GOLDEN PALACE THAT HUNG IN THE AIR

LITTLE FREDDY WITH HIS FIDDLE

MOTHER ROUNDABOUT'S DAUGHTER

THE GREEN KNIGHT

BOOTS AND HIS CREW

THE TOWN-MOUSE AND THE FELL-MOUSE

SILLY MATT

KING VALEMON, THE WHITE BEAR

THE GOLDEN BIRD

TALES FROM THE FJELD.

We were up on the Fjeld, Edward and I and Anders our guide, in quest of
reindeer. How long ago it was we will not ask; for after all it was not
so very long ago. How did we get there? Well; if you must know we went
up to the head of the Sogne Fjord in a boat, and then we drove up the
valley in carioles till we were tired, and then we took to our legs,
and, now, about three P.M., we were on the Fjeld making for the
_Soeter_ or Shieling, where we were to pass the night. On this our
first day, we did not expect to meet deer, so on we plodded over the
stony soil slanting across the Fjeld which showed its long shoulder
above us, while far off glared the snowy peaks, and the glaciers stooped
down to meet the Fjeld, for as the Norse proverb says, if the dale won't
come to the mountain, the mountain must meet the dale. On we went,
Anders cheering the way by stories of _Huldror_ and Trolls, and running
off hither and thither to fetch us Alpine plants and flowers. All at
once, in one of these flights which had brought him up to the very edge
of the shoulder above us, we saw his tall form stiffen as it were
against the sky, and, in another moment, he had fallen flat, beckoning
us to come cautiously to him. As we reached him stooping and running, he
whispered "There they are, away yonder;" and sure enough, about half a
mile further on, close under the shoulder, which broke off into an
immense circular valley or combe, we could make out two stags, three
hinds, and some fawns, at play. It was a strange sight to see the low,
thick-set stags with their heavy palmated antlers, leaping over one
another and over the hinds, and the hinds and fawns in turn following
their example. "A sure sign of rain and wind," said Anders. "It will
blow a hurricane and pour in torrents to-morrow, mark my words. I never
looked to find them so low down; let us try to get at them." We crept
down then, well under cover of the shoulder, and, led by Anders, went on
till he said we were opposite the spot where the deer were at play.
"But, by all the powers," said he, "be sure to take good aim both of
you, and bring down each a stag. I will take one of the hinds, but I
will not fire before you." And now began the real stalk; we had about
three hundred yards against the wind to crawl on our hands and feet over
stones, and gravel, and dry grass, and brambles, and dwarf willow,
before we could get to the edge of the shoulder, and look down on the
deer. For nearly the whole distance all went well, our bellies clove to
the dust like snakes, as we wormed our way. But, alas! when we were not
ten yards from the edge, Edward uttered a cry and sprang to his feet.
Anders and I did the same without the cry, only to see the deer off at
full speed down the combe, followed by a volley of oaths and a
billetless bullet from the old flint rifle which Anders carried. For
myself I turned to Edward and felt very much as though I should like to
send my bullet through him.

"Why, in the name of all that is unholy, did you utter that yell and
scare them away."

"Oh, I am very sorry," he said, "but I came across this thing like a
bramble, only the prickles are much sharper, and it tore me so I
couldn't bear it;" and, as he spoke, he pointed to a stout trailing
_Rubus arcticus_ over which he had crawled, and which had taken toll
both of his clothing and flesh.

Anders looked at him with unutterable scorn. "When the gentleman next
goes after reindeer, he had better take Osborn's Pipe with him. Come
along, no more reindeer for us to-day; no, nor to-morrow either. The
peaks are going to put on their nightcaps; we must try to get to the
_Soeter_ before the storm comes on." After a tough walk, during which
Anders said little or nothing, we got to the shieling, where two girls,
a cousin of Anders and his sister, met us with bright hearty faces. They
had been up there looking after the cattle since June, and it was now
August, and they had made heaps of butter and cheese. There were three
rooms in the _Soeter_, a living-room in the middle, and on either hand
a room for the men and another for the women. There were outhouses for
the butter, and cheese, and milk, and cream. We had sent up some
creature comforts, and with these and the butter, cream, and cheese, we
made a good supper; and now we are sitting over the fire smoking our
pipes, and listening to the rain as it patters on the roof, and to the
wind as it howls round the building. Under the influence of tobacco and
cognac Anders was more happy, and got even reconciled to Edward, whom he
regarded as a muff. Looking at him mockingly, he said again, "What a
pity you had not Osborn's Pipe."

"And, pray, what was that?" asked Edward; "was it anything like this?"
holding out his cutty pipe.

"God forgive us," said Anders; "there are pipes and pipes, and Osborn's
Pipe was not a tobacco-pipe, but a playing pipe or whistle. At least so
my grandmother said, for she said her grandmother knew a very old woman
down at the head of the lake, who had known Osborn and seen his pipe.
But, if you like, I'll tell you the story. The girls are gone to bed,
and so they won't trouble us, though there's a good bit of kissing in
the story, and, when you hear it, you'll both say we should have been
lucky if we had only had Osborn's Pipe when the gentleman scared away
the deer. But here goes."

OSBORN'S PIPE.

"Once on a time there was a poor tenant farmer who had to give up his
farm to his landlord; but, if he had lost his farm, he had three sons
left, and their names were Peter, Paul, and Osborn Boots. They stayed at
home and sauntered about, and wouldn't do a stroke of work; _that_ they
thought was the right thing to do. They thought, too, they were too good
for everything, and that nothing was good enough for them.

"At last Peter had got to hear how the king would have a keeper to watch
his hares; so he said to his father that he would be off thither: the
place would just suit him, for he would serve no lower man than the
king; that was what he said. The old father thought there might be work
for which he was better fitted than that; for he that would keep the
king's hares must be light and lissom, and no lazy-bones, and when the
hares began to skip and frisk there would be quite another dance than
loitering about from house to house. Well, it was all no good: Peter
would go, and must go, so he took his scrip on his back, and toddled
away down the hill; and when he had gone far, and farther than far, he
came to an old wife, who stood there with her nose stuck fast in a log
of wood, and pulled and pulled at it; and as soon as he saw how she
stood dragging and pulling to get free he burst into a loud fit of
laughter.

"'Don't stand there and grin,' said the old wife, 'but come and help an
old cripple; I was to have split asunder a little firewood, and I got my
nose fast down here, and so I have stood and tugged and torn and not
tasted a morsel of food for hundreds of years.' That was what she said.

"But for all that Peter laughed more and more. He thought it all fine
fun. All he said was, as she had stood so for hundreds of years she
might hold out for hundreds of years still.

"When he got to the king's grange, they took him for keeper at once. It
was not bad serving there, and he was to have good food and good pay,
and maybe the princess into the bargain; but if one of the king's hares
got lost, they were to cut three red stripes out of his back and cast
him into a pit of snakes.

"So long as Peter was in the byre and home-field he kept all the hares
in one flock: but as the day wore on, and they got up into the wood, all
the hares began to frisk, and skip, and scuttle away up and down the
hillocks. Peter ran after them this way and that, and nearly burst
himself with running, so long as he could make out that he had one of
them left, and when the last was gone he was almost brokenwinded. And
after that he saw nothing more of them.

"When it drew towards evening he sauntered along on his way home, and
stood and called and called to them at each fence, but no hares came;
and when he got home to the king's grange, there stood the king all
ready with his knife, and he took and cut three red stripes out of
Peter's back, and then rubbed pepper and salt into them, and cast him
into a pit of snakes.

"After a time, Paul was for going to the king's grange to keep the
king's hares. The old gaffer said the same thing to him, and even still
more; but he must and would set off; there was no help for it, and
things went neither better nor worse with him than with Peter. The old
wife stood there and tugged and tore at her nose to get it out of the
log; he laughed, and thought it fine fun, and left her standing and
hacking there. He got the place at once; no one said him nay; but the
hares hopped and skipped away from him down all the hillocks, while he
rushed about till he blew and panted like a colley-dog in the dog-days,
and when he got home at night to the king's grange, without a hare, the
king stood ready with his knife in the porch, and took and cut three
broad red stripes out of his back, and rubbed pepper and salt into them,
and so down he went into the pit of snakes.

"Now, when a little while had passed, Osborn Boots was all for setting
off to keep the king's hares, and he told his mind to the gaffer. He
thought it would be just the right work for him to go into the woods and
fields, and along the wild strawberry brakes, and to drag a flock of
hares with him, and between whiles to lie and sleep and warm himself on
the sunny hillsides.

"The gaffer thought there might be work which suited him better; if it
didn't go worse, it was sure not to go better with him than with his two
brothers. The man to keep the king's hares must not dawdle about like a
lazy-bones with leaden soles to his stockings, or like a fly in a
tar-pot; for when they fell to frisking and skipping on the sunny
slopes, it would be quite another dance to catching fleas with gloves
on. No; he that would get rid of that work with a whole back had need to
be more than lithe and lissom, and he must fly about faster than a
bladder or a bird's-wing.

"'Well, well, it was all no good, however bad it might be,' said Osborn
Boots. He would go to the king's grange and serve the king, for no
lesser man would he serve, and he would soon keep the hares. They
couldn't well be worse than the goat and the calf at home. So Boots
threw his scrip on his shoulder, and down the hill he toddled.

"So when he had gone far, and farther than far, and had begun to get
right down hungry, he too came to the old wife, who stood with her nose
fast in the log, who tugged, and tore, and tried to get loose.

"'Good-day, grandmother,' said Boots. 'Are you standing there whetting
your nose, poor old cripple that you are?'

"'Now, not a soul has called me "mother" for hundreds of years,' said
the old wife. 'Do come and help me to get free, and give me something to
live on; for I haven't had meat in my mouth all that time. See if I
don't do you a motherly turn afterwards.'

"Yes; he thought she might well ask for a bit of food and a drop of
drink.

"So he cleft the log for her, that she might get her nose out of the
split, and sat down to eat and drink with her; and as the old wife had a
good appetite, you may fancy she got the lion's share of the meal.

"When they were done, she gave Boots a pipe, which was in this wise:
when he blew into one end of it, anything that he wished away was
scattered to the four winds, and when he blew into the other, all things
gathered themselves together again; and if the pipe were lost or taken
from him, he had only to wish for it, and it came back to him.

"'Something like a pipe, this,' said Osborn Boots.

"When he got to the king's grange, they chose him for keeper on the
spot. It was no bad service there, and food and wages he should have,
and, if he were man enough to keep the king's hares, he might, perhaps,
get the princess too; but if one of them got away, if it were only a
leveret, they were to cut three red stripes out of his back. And the
king was so sure of this that he went off at once and ground his knife.

"It would be a small thing to keep these hares, thought Osborn Boots;
for when they set out they were almost as tame as a flock of sheep, and
so long as he was in the lane and in the home-field, he had them all
easily in a flock and following; but when they got upon the hill by the
wood, and it looked towards mid-day, and the sun began to burn and shine
on the slopes and hillsides, all the hares fell to frisking and skipping
about, and away over the hills.

"'Ho, ho! stop! will you all go? Go, then!' said Boots; and he blew into
one end of the pipe, so that they ran off on all sides, and there was
not one of them left. But as he went on, and came to an old charcoal
pit, he blew into the other end of the pipe; and before he knew where he
was, the hares were all there, and stood in lines and rows, so that he
could take them all in at a glance, just like a troop of soldiers on
parade. 'Something like a pipe, this,' said Osborn Boots; and with that
he laid him down to sleep away under a sunny slope, and the hares
frisked and frolicked about till eventide. Then he piped them all
together again, and came down to the king's grange with them, like a
flock of sheep.

"The king and the queen, and the princess, too, all stood in the porch,
and wondered what sort of fellow this was who so kept the hares that he
brought them home again; and the king told and reckoned them on his
fingers, and counted them over and over again; but there was not one of
them missing--no! not so much as a leveret.

"'Something like a lad, this,' said the princess.

"Next day he went off to the wood, and was to keep the hares again; but
as he lay and rested himself on a strawberry brake, they sent the maid
after him from the grange that she might find out how it was that he was
man enough to keep the king's hares so well.

"So he took out the pipe and showed it her, and then he blew into one
end and made them fly like the wind over all the hills and dales; and
then he blew into the other end, and they all came scampering back to
the brake, and all stood in row and rank again.

"'What a pretty pipe,' said the maid. She would willingly give a hundred
dollars for it, if he would sell it, she said.

"'Yes! it is something like a pipe,' said Osborn Boots; 'and it was not
to be had for money alone; but if she would give him the hundred
dollars, and a kiss for each dollar, she should have it,' he said.

"Well! why not? of course she would; she would willingly give him two
for each dollar, and thanks besides.

"So she got the pipe; but when she had got as far as the king's grange,
the pipe was gone, for Osborn Boots had wished for it back, and so, when
it drew towards eventide, home he came with his hares just like any
other flock of sheep; and for all the king's counting or telling, there
was no help,--not a hair of the hares was missing.

"The third day that he kept the hares, they sent the princess on her way
to try and get the pipe from him. She made herself as blithe as a lark,
and she bade him two hundred dollars if he would sell her the pipe and
tell her how she was to behave to bring it safe home with her.

"'Yes! yes! it is something like a pipe,' said Osborn Boots; 'and it was
not for sale,' he said, 'but all the same, he would do it for her sake,
if she would give him two hundred dollars, and a kiss into the bargain
for each dollar; then she might have the pipe. If she wished to keep it,
she must look sharp after it. That was her look-out.'

"'This is a very high price for a hare-pipe,' thought the princess; and
she made mouths at giving him the kisses; 'but, after all,' she said,
'it's far away in the wood, no one can see it or hear it--it can't be
helped; for I must and will have the pipe.'

"So when Osborn Boots had got all he was to have, she got the pipe, and
off she went, and held it fast with her fingers the whole way; but when
she came to the grange, and was going to take it out, it slipped through
her fingers and was gone!

"Next day the queen would go herself and fetch the pipe from him. She
made sure she would bring the pipe back with her.

"Now she was more stingy about the money, and bade no more than fifty
dollars; but she had to raise her price till it came to three hundred.
Boots said it was something like a pipe, and it was no price at all;
still for her sake it might go, if she would give him three hundred
dollars, and a smacking kiss for each dollar into the bargain; then she
might have it. And he got the kisses well paid, for on that part of the
bargain she was not so squeamish.

"So when she had got the pipe, she both bound it fast, and looked after
it well; but she was not a hair better off than the others, for when she
was going to pull it out at home, the pipe was gone; and at even down
came Osborn Boots, driving the king's hares home for all the world like
a flock of tame sheep.

"'It is all stuff,' said the king; 'I see I must set off myself, if we
are to get this wretched pipe from him; there's no other help for it, I
can see.' And when Osborn Boots had got well into the woods next day
with the hares, the king stole after him, and found him lying on the
same sunny hillside, where the women had tried their hands on him.

"Well! they were good friends and very happy; and Osborn Boots showed
him the pipe, and blew first on one end and then on the other, and the
king thought it a pretty pipe, and wanted at last to buy it, even though
he gave a thousand dollars for it.

"'Yes! it is something like a pipe,' said Boots, 'and it's not to be had
for money; but do you see that white horse yonder down there?' and he
pointed away into the wood.

"'See it! of course I see it; it's my own horse Whitey,' said the king.
No one had need to tell him that.

"'Well! if you will give me a thousand dollars, and then go and kiss yon
white horse down in the marsh there, behind the big fir-tree, you shall
have my pipe.'

"'Isn't it to be had for any other price?' asked the king.

"'No, it is not,' said Osborn.

"'Well! but I may put my silken pockethandkerchief between us?' said the
king.

"Very good; he might have leave to do that. And so he got the pipe, and
put it into his purse. And the purse he put into his pocket, and
buttoned it up tight; and so off he strode to his home. But when he
reached the grange, and was going to pull out his pipe, he fared no
better than the women folk; he hadn't the pipe any more than they, and
there came Osborn Boots driving home the flock of hares, and not a hair
was missing.

"The king was both spiteful and wroth, to think that he had fooled them
all round, and cheated him out of the pipe as well; and now he said
Boots must lose his life, there was no question of it, and the queen
said the same: it was best to put such a rogue out of the way
red-handed.

"Osborn thought it neither fair nor right, for he had done nothing but
what they told him to do; and so he had guarded his back and life as
best he might.

"So the king said there was no help for it; but if he could lie the
great brewing-vat so full of lies that it ran over, then he might keep
his life.

"That was neither a long nor perilous piece of work: he was quite game
to do that, said Osborn Boots. So he began to tell how it had all
happened from the very first. He told about the old wife and her nose in
the log, and then he went on to say, 'Well, but I must lie faster if the
vat is to be full.' So he went on to tell of the pipe and how he got it;
and of the maid, how she came to him and wanted to buy it for a hundred
dollars, and of all the kisses she had to give besides, away there in
the wood. Then he told of the princess how she came and kissed him so
sweetly for the pipe when no one could see or hear it all away there in
the wood. Then he stopped and said, 'I must lie faster if the vat is
ever to be full.' So he told of the queen, how close she was about the
money and how overflowing she was with her smacks. 'You know I must lie
hard to get the vat full,' said Osborn.

"'For my part,' said the queen, 'I think it's pretty full already.'

"'No! no! it isn't,' said the king.

"So he fell to telling how the king came to him, and about the white
horse down on the marsh, and how if the king was to have the pipe, he
must--'Yes, your majesty, if the vat is ever to be full I must go on and
lie hard,' said Osborn Boots.

"'Hold! hold, lad! It's full to the brim,' roared out the king; 'don't
you see how it is foaming over?'

"So both the king and the queen thought it best he should have the
princess to wife and half the kingdom. There was no help for it.

"'That was something like a pipe,' said Osborn Boots."

* * * * *

That was the story of Osborn's Pipe, and when Anders stopped we all
laughed, and our laughter was re-echoed by the girls, who had listened
with the door ajar, and who now showed their smiling faces through the
opening, and thanked Anders for telling the story so well. "Your own
grandmother couldn't have told it better," said Christine, his
fair-haired cousin.

THE HAUNTED MILL, AND THE HONEST PENNY.

Next morning we woke to find Anders' words too true; the wind still
howled, and the rain still poured, deerstalking was out of the question,
nor could the girls stir out of the doors to look after the kine. There
we were, all house-bound. What was to be done? After breakfast we
smoked, and the girls knitted stockings. Anders, for want of something
better to do, cleaned our guns and admired their make and locks. But all
this was not much towards killing time on the Fjeld, and we had no
books.

At last Edward, who was rather afraid of Anders and his jokes on his
sportsmanship, whispered to me,

"Can't you make him tell us some more stories? I'll be bound _Osborn's
Pipe_ is not the only tale he has in his scrip."

Not a bad thought, but Anders was one of those free spirits who must be
stalked as warily as a reindeer. I felt that if I asked him outright he
might betake him to his Norse pride and say he was no story-teller. "If
I wanted stories I had better ask some of the old women down in the
dales." It was not the first time I had unsealed unwilling lips, and I
knew the way.

"That was a good story about Osborn's Pipe, and I owe you one for it,
Anders. Come listen to one of mine, and let the lassies listen to it
too. It's not long."

THE HAUNTED MILL.

"Once on a time, there was a man who had a mill by the side of a force,
and in the mill there was a brownie. Whether the man, as is the custom
in most places, gave the brownie porridge and ale at Yule to bring grist
to the mill, I can't say, but I don't think he did, for every time he
turned the water on the mill, the brownie took hold of the spindle and
stopped the mill, so that he couldn't grind a sack.

"The man know well enough it was all the brownie's work, and at last one
evening, when he went into the mill, he took a pot full of pitch and
tar, and lit a fire under it. Well! when he turned the water on the
wheel, it went round awhile, but soon after it made a dead stop. So he
turned, and twisted, and put his shoulder to the top of the wheel, but
it was all no good. By this time the pot of pitch was boiling hot, and
then he opened the trap-door which opened on to the ladder that went
down into the wheel, and if he didn't see the brownie standing on the
steps of the ladder with his jaws all a-gape, and he gaped so wide that
his mouth filled up the whole trap-door.

"'Did you ever see such a wide mouth?' said the brownie.

"But the man was handy with his pitch. He caught up the pot and threw
it, pitch and all, into the gaping jaws.

"'Did you ever feel such hot pitch?'

"Then the brownie let the wheel go, and yelled and howled frightfully.
Since then he has been never known to stop the wheel in that mill, and
there they ground in peace."

* * * * *

Yes! Anders had heard a story something like that, only it was about a
water kelpy, not a brownie. Brownies, he declared, never did folk much
harm, except lazy maids and idle grooms, but kelpies were spiteful, and
hated men. Besides, brownies hated water, they couldn't bear to cross a
running stream; then how could they live in a mill? No, it was a kelpy,
and his grandmother had told him so.

Then, after a pause, he went on, "But I know another story of a mill
which was not canny, and I'll tell it if you like."

We were all ears, and Anders began:--

THE HAUNTED MILL.

"This story, too, I heard of my grandmother, who knew stories without
end, and more, she believed them. This mill was not in these parts, it
was somewhere up the country; but wherever it was, north of the Fells,
or south of the Fells, it was not canny. No one could grind a grain of
corn in it for weeks together, when something came and haunted it. But
the worst was that, besides haunting it, the trolls, or whatever they
were, took to burning the mill down. Two Whitsun-eves running it had
caught fire and burned to the ground.

"Well, the third year, as Whitsuntide was drawing on, the man had a
tailor in his house hard by the mill, who was making Sunday clothes for
the miller.

"'I wonder, now,' said the man on Whitsun-eve, 'whether the mill will
burn down this Whitsuntide, too?'

"'No, it shan't,' said the tailor. 'Why should it? Give me the keys:
I'll watch the mill.'

"Well, the man thought that brave, and so, as the evening drew on, he
gave the tailor the keys, and showed him into the mill. It was empty,
you know, for it was just new-built, and so the tailor sat down in the
middle of the floor, and took out his chalk and chalked a great circle
round about him, and outside the ring all round he wrote the Lord's
Prayer, and when he had done that he wasn't afraid--no, not if Old Nick
himself came.

"So at dead of night the door flew open with a bang, and there came in
such a swarm of black cats you couldn't count them, they were as thick
as ants. They were not long before they had put a big pot on the
fireplace and set light under it, and the pot began to boil and bubble
and as for the broth, it was for all the world like pitch and tar.

"'Ha! ha!' thought the tailor, 'that's your game, is it!'

"And he had hardly thought this before one of the cats thrust her paw
under the pot and tried to upset it.

"'Paws off, pussy,' said the tailor, 'you'll burn your whiskers.'

"'Hark to the tailor, who says "Paws off, pussy," to me,' said the cat
to the other cats, and in a trice they all ran away from the fireplace,
and began to dance and jump round the circle; and then all at once the
same cat stole off to the fireplace and tried to upset the pot.

"'Paws off, pussy, you'll burn your whiskers,' bawled out the tailor
again, and again he scared them from the fireplace.

"'Hark to the tailor, who says "Paws off, pussy"' said the cat to the
others, and again they all began to dance and jump round the circle, and
then all at once they were off again to the pot, trying to upset it.

"'Paws off, pussy, you'll burn your whiskers,' screamed out the tailor
the third time, and this time he gave them such a fright that they
tumbled head over heels on the floor, and began dancing and jumping as
before.

"Then they closed round the circle, and danced faster and faster: so
fast at last that the tailor's head began to turn round, and they glared
at him with such big ugly eyes, as though they would swallow him up
alive.

"Now just as they were at the fastest, the same cat which had tried so
often to upset the pot, stuck her paw inside the circle, as though she
meant to claw the tailor. But as soon as the tailor saw that, he drew
his knife out of the sheath and held it ready; just then the cat thrust
her paw in again, and in a trice the tailor chopped it off, and then,
pop! all the cats took to their heels as fast as they could, with yells
and caterwauls, right out at the door.

"But the tailor lay down inside his circle, and slept till the sun shone
bright in upon the floor. Then he rose, locked the mill, and went away
to the miller's house.

"When he got there, both the miller and his wife were still abed, for
you know it was Whitsunday morning.

"'Good morning,' said the tailor, as he went to the bedside, and held
out his hand to the miller.

"'Good morning,' said the miller, who was both glad and astonished to
see the tailor safe and sound, you must know.

"'Good morning, mother!' said the tailor, and held out his hand to the
wife.

"'Good morning,' said she; but she looked so wan and worried; and as for
her hand, she hid it under the quilt; but at last she stuck out the
left. Then the tailor saw plainly how things stood, but what he said to
the man and what was done to the wife, I never heard."

* * * * *

"But I can tell you, Anders," I broke in: "she was burnt for a witch,
and, do you know, over in Scotland we have the same story; only we have
the end. She tried on the Boot till her feet were crushed, and Morton's
Maiden hugged her till her ribs cracked, and her fingers were fitted to
the thumbscrews till they were all jelly. All this to make her own that
she was a witch, and at last, when she owned it, she was burnt at
Edinburgh, in the days of King James the Sixth, and seven other carlines
with her."

Having unsealed Anders' lips, I was not going to let him stop, so I told
the story of _Whittington and his Cat_, and I even got him and the
lassies to understand the awful importance of the Lord Mayor of London.
After Anders and the lassies had crossed and blessed themselves over and
over again at that wonderful story, Anders said,--

"Heaven help us, we have no Lord Mayors in Norway; the sheriff is good
enough for us, and trouble enough he gives us sometimes; but we have a
story, the end of which is as like your Lord Mayor's story as one pea is
like another, and here it is, only we call it

THE HONEST PENNY.

"Once on a time there was a poor woman who lived in a tumble-down hut
far away in the wood. Little had she to eat, and nothing at all to burn,
and so she sent a little boy she had out into the wood to gather fuel.
He ran and jumped, and jumped and ran, to keep himself warm, for it was
a cold gray autumn day, and every time he found a bough or a root for
his billet, he had to beat his arms across his breast, for his fists
were as red as the cranberries over which he walked, for very cold. So
when he had got his billet of wood and was off home, he came upon a
clearing of stumps on the hillside, and there he saw a white crooked
stone.

"'Ah! you poor old stone,' said the boy; 'how white and wan you are!
I'll be bound you are frozen to death;' and with that he took off his
jacket, and laid it on the stone. So when he got home with his billet of
wood his mother asked what it all meant that he walked about in wintry
weather in his shirtsleeves. Then he told her how he had seen an old
crooked stone which was all white and wan for frost, and how he had
given it his jacket.

"'What a fool you are!' said his mother; 'do you think a stone can
freeze? But even if it froze till it shook again, know this--everyone is
nearest to his own self. It costs quite enough to get clothes to your
back, without your going and hanging them on stones in the clearings,'
and as she said that, she hunted the boy out of the house to fetch his
jacket.

"So when he came where the stone stood, lo! it had turned itself and
lifted itself up on one side from the ground. 'Yes! yes! this is since
you got the jacket, poor old thing,' said the boy.

"But, when he looked a little closer at the stone, he saw a money-box,
full of bright silver, under it.

"'This is stolen money, no doubt,' thought the boy; 'no one puts money,
come by honestly, under a stone away in the wood.'

"So he took the money-box and bore it down to a tarn hard by and threw
the whole hoard into the tarn; but one silver pennypiece floated on the
top of the water, "'Ah! ah! that is honest,' said the lad; 'for what is
honest never sinks.'

"So he took the silver penny and went home with it and his jacket. Then
he told his mother how it had all happened, how the stone had turned
itself, and how he had found a money-box full of silver money, which he
had thrown out into the tarn because it was stolen money, and how one
silver penny floated on the top.

"'That I took,' said the boy, 'because it was honest.'

"'You are a born fool,' said his mother, for she was very angry; 'were
naught else honest than what floats on water, there wouldn't be much
honesty in the world. And even though the money were stolen ten times
over, still you had found it; and I tell you again what I told you
before, every one is nearest to his own self. Had you only taken that
money we might have lived well and happily all our days. But a
ne'er-do-weel thou art, and a ne'er-do-weel thou wilt be, and now I
won't drag on any longer toiling and moiling for thee. Be off with thee
into the world and earn thine own bread.'"

"So the lad had to go out into the wide world, and he went both far and
long seeking a place. But wherever he came, folk thought him too little
and weak, and said they could put him to no use. At last he came to a
merchant, and there he got leave to be in the kitchen and carry in wood
and water for the cook. Well, after he had been there a long time, the
merchant had to make a journey into foreign lands, and so he asked all
his servants what he should buy and bring home for each of them. So,
when all had said what they would have, the turn came to the scullion,
too, who brought in wood and water for the cook. Then he held out his
penny.

"'Well, what shall I buy with this?' asked the merchant; 'there won't be
much time lost over this bargain.'

"'Buy what I can get for it. It is honest, that I know,' said the lad.

"That his master gave his word to do, and so he sailed away.

"So when the merchant had unladed his ship and laded her again in
foreign lands, and bought what he had promised his servants to buy, he
came down to his ship, and was just going to shove off from the wharf.
Then all at once it came into his head that the scullion had sent out a
silver penny with him, that he might buy something for him.

"'Must I go all the way back to the town for the sake of a silver penny?
One would then have small gain in taking such a beggar into one's
house,' thought the merchant.

"Just then an old wife came walking by with a bag at her back.

"'What have you got in your bag, mother?' asked the merchant.

"'Oh! nothing else than a cat. I can't afford to feed it any longer, so
I thought I would throw it into the sea, and make away with it,'
answered the woman.

"Then the merchant said to himself, 'Didn't the lad say I was to buy
what I could get for his penny?' So he asked the old wife if she would
take four farthings for her cat. Yes! the goody was not slow to say
'done,' and so the bargain was soon struck.

"Now when the merchant had sailed a bit, fearful weather fell on him,
and such a storm, there was nothing for it but to drive and drive till
he did not know whither he was going. At last he came to a land on which
he had never set foot before, and so up he went into the town.

"At the inn where he turned in, the board was laid with a rod for each
man who sat at it. The merchant thought it very strange, for he couldn't
at all make out what they were to do with all these rods; but he sate
him down, and thought he would watch well what the others did, and do
like them. Well! as soon as the meat was set on the board, he saw well
enough what the rods meant; for out swarmed mice in thousands, and each
one who sate at the board had to take to his rod and flog and flap about
him, and naught else could be heard than one cut of the rod harder than
the one which went before it. Sometimes they whipped one another in the
face, and just gave themselves time to say, 'Beg pardon,' and then at it
again.

"'Hard work to dine in this land!' said the merchant. 'But don't folk
keep cats here?'

"'Cats?' they all asked, for they did not know what cats were.

"So the merchant sent and fetched the cat he had bought for the
scullion, and as soon as the cat got on the table, off ran the mice to
their holes, and folks had never in the memory of man had such rest at
their meat.

"Then they begged and prayed the merchant to sell them the cat, and at
last, after a long, long time, he promised to let them have it; but he
would have a hundred dollars for it; and that sum they gave and thanks
besides.

"So the merchant sailed off again; but he had scarce got good sea-room
before he saw the cat sitting up at the mainmast head, and all at once
again came foul weather and a storm worse than the first, and he drove
and drove till he got to a country where he had never been before. The
merchant went up to an inn, and here, too, the board was spread with
rods; but they were much bigger and longer than the first. And, to tell
the truth, they had need to be; for here the mice were many more, and
every mouse was twice as big as those he had before seen.

"So he sold the cat again, and this time he got two hundred dollars for
it, and that without any haggling.

"So when he had sailed away from that land and got a bit out at sea,
there sat Grimalkin again at the masthead; and the bad weather began at
once again, and the end of it was, he was again driven to a land where
he had never been before.

"He went ashore, up to the town, and turned into an inn. There, too, the
board was laid with rods, but every rod was an ell and a half long, and
as thick as a small broom; and the folk said that to sit at meat was the
hardest trial they had, for there were thousands of big ugly rats, so
that it was only with sore toil and trouble one could get a morsel into
one's mouth, 'twas such hard work to keep off the rats. So the cat had
to be fetched up from the ship once more, and then folks got their food
in peace. Then they all begged and prayed the merchant, for heaven's
sake, to sell them his cat. For a long time he said, 'No;' but at last,
he gave his word to take three hundred dollars for it. That sum they
paid down at once, and thanked him and blessed him for it into the
bargain.

"Now, when the merchant got out to sea, he fell a-thinking how much the
lad had made out of the penny he had sent out with him.

"'Yes, yes, some of the money he shall have,' said the merchant to
himself; 'but not all. Me it is that he has to thank for the cat I
bought; and, besides, every man is nearest to his own self.'

"But as soon as ever the merchant thought this, such a storm and gale
arose that every one thought the ship must founder. So the merchant saw
there was no help for it, and he had to vow that the lad should have
every penny; and, no sooner had he vowed this vow, than the weather
turned good, and he got a snoring breeze fair for home.

"So, when he got to land, he gave the lad the six hundred dollars, and
his daughter besides; for now the little scullion was just as rich as
his master, the merchant, and even richer; and, after that, the lad
lived all his days in mirth and jollity; and he sent for his mother and
treated her as well as or better than he treated himself; for, said the
lad, 'I don't think that every one is nearest to his own self.'"

THE DEATH OF CHANTICLEER, AND THE GREEDY CAT.

All this time Edward and the lassies sat by and listened. It was dull
work for Edward, he knew little Norse, and so could not follow the
stories; sometimes he stared in a dull vacant way at the girls, and
sometimes he consulted Bradshaw's Foreign Guide. Whether he solved any
of the many mysteries of that most mysterious volume, I know not, let us
hope he did. "Bored" is the word which best expressed his looks. But as
for Christine and Karin, they knitted and knitted, and laughed and
sniggered at the story, which Anders, I must say, told in a way which
would have rejoiced his old grandmother's heart. But they were not to
have all the fun and no work. It was now their turn to be amusing, and
help to kill the ancient enemy, time.

When _The Honest Penny_ was over, Anders, almost without taking breath,
said,--

"Now, girls, it is my right to call for a tune. You know lots of
stories, and can tell them better than I. So, Christine, do you tell
_The Death of Chanticleer_; and you, Karin, _The Greedy Cat_. And mind
you act them as well as tell them. They are nursery tales meant for
children, and mind you tell them well."

I am bound to say that Christine, who was a very pretty girl, now no
doubt the happy mother of children, told _The Death of Chanticleer_ in a
way which would have gained her in China the post of Own Story-teller to
the Emperor's children. Without a blush, and without even the
stereotyped "unaccustomed as I am to public story-telling," she began.
"This is the story of--

THE DEATH OF CHANTICLEER.

"Once on a time there were a Cock and a Hen, who walked out into the
field, and scratched, and scraped, and scrabbled. All at once,
Chanticleer found a burr of hop, and Partlet found a barley-corn; and
they said they would make malt and brew Yule ale.

"'Oh! I pluck barley, and I malt malt, and I brew ale, and the ale is
good,' cackled dame Partlet.

"'Is the wort strong enough?' crew Chanticleer; and as he crowed he flew
up on the edge of the cask, and tried to have a taste; but, just as he
bent over to drink a drop, he took to flapping his wings, and so he fell
head over heels into the cask, and was drowned.

"When dame Partlet saw that, she clean lost her wits, and flew up into
the chimney-corner, and fell a-screaming and screeching out. 'Harm in
the house! harm in the house!' she screeched out all in a breath, and
there was no stopping her.

"'What ails you, dame Partlet, that you sit there sobbing and sighing?'
said the Handquern.

"'Why not?' said dame Partlet; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into
the cask and drowned himself, and lies dead? That's why I sigh and sob.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else, I will grind and groan,' said the
Handquern; and so it fell to grinding as fast as it could.

"When the Chair heard that, it said--

"'What ails you, Handquern, that you grind and groan so fast and oft?'

"'Why not, when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the cask and drowned
himself; and dame Partlet sits in the ingle, and sighs and sobs? That's
why I grind and groan,' said the Handquern.

"'If I can do naught else, I will crack,' said the Chair; and, with
that, he fell to creaking and cracking.

"When the Door heard that, it said,--

"'What's the matter? Why do you creak and crack so, Mr. Chair?'

"'Why not?' said the Chair; 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; and the Handquern grinds and groans. That's why I creak and
crackle, and croak and crack.'

"'Well,' said the Door, 'if I can do naught else, I can rattle and bang,
and whistle and slam;' and, with that, it began to open and shut, and
bang and slam, it deaved one to hear, and all one's teeth chattered.

"All this the Stove heard, and it opened its mouth and called out--

"'Door! Door! why all this slamming and banging?'

"'Why not?' said the Door; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans, and the Chair creaks and
cracks. That's why I bang and slam.'

"'Well,' said the Stove, 'if I can do naught else, I can smoulder and
smoke;' and so it fell a-smoking and steaming till the room was all in a
cloud.

"The Axe saw this, as it stood outside, and peeped with its shaft
through the window,--

"'What's all this smoke about, Mrs. Stove?' said the Axe, in a sharp
voice.

"'Why not? said the Stove; 'when goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the
cask and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and
sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks,
and the Door bangs and slams. That's why I smoke and steam.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else, I can rive and rend,' said the Axe;
and, with that, it fell to riving and rending all round about.

"This the Aspen stood by and saw.

"'Why do you rive and rend everything so, Mr. Axe?' said the Aspen.

"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,'
said the Axe; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle, sighing and sobbing; the
Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks and cracks; the Door slams
and bangs, and the Stove smokes and steams. That's why I rive and rend
all about.'

"'Well, if I can do naught else,' said the Aspen, 'I can quiver and
quake in all my leaves;' so it grew all of a quake.

"The Birds saw this, and twittered out,--

"'Why do you quiver and quake, Miss Aspen?'

"'Goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned himself,'
said the Aspen, with a trembling voice; 'dame Partlet sits in the ingle,
sighing and sobbing; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks
and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove steams and smokes; and
the Axe rives and rends. That's why I quiver and quake.'

"Well, if we can do naught else, we will pluck off all our feathers,'
said the Birds; and, with that, they fell a-pilling and plucking
themselves till the room was full of feathers.

"This the Master stood by and saw, and, when the feathers flew about
like fun, he asked the Birds,--

"'Why do you pluck off all your feathers, you Birds?'

"'Oh! goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-cask and drowned
himself,' twittered out the Birds; 'dame Partlet sits sighing and
sobbing in the ingle; the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair creaks
and cracks; the Door slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the
Axe rives and rends, and the Aspen quivers and quakes. That's why we are
pilling and plucking all our feathers off.'

"'Well, if I can do nothing else, I can tear the brooms asunder,' said
the man; and, with that, he fell tearing and tossing the brooms till the
birch-twigs flew about east and west.

"The goody stood cooking porridge for supper, and saw all this.

"'Why, man!' she called out; 'what are you tearing the brooms to bits
for?'

"'Oh!' said the man, 'goodman Chanticleer has fallen into the ale-vat
and drowned himself; dame Partlet sits sighing and sobbing in the ingle;
the Handquern grinds and groans; the Chair cracks and creaks; the Door
slams and bangs; the Stove smokes and steams; the Axe rives and rends;
the Aspen quivers and quakes; the Birds are pilling and plucking all
their feathers off, and that's why I am tearing the besoms to bits.'

"'So, so!' said the goody; 'then I'll dash the porridge over all the
walls;' and she did it; for she took one spoonful after the other and
dashed it against the walls, so that no one could see what they were
made of for very porridge.

"That was how they drank the burial ale after goodman Chanticleer, who
fell into the brewing-vat and was drowned; and, if you don't believe it,
you may set off thither and have a taste both of the ale and the
porridge."

* * * * *

When Christine ended, I did not tell them what I could now tell them,
that this story of _The Death of Chanticleer_ is _mutatis mutandis_, the
very same story as one in _Grimm's Tales_, and another in the Scotch
collection of Robert Chambers. But alas! I heard _The Death of
Chanticleer_ up on the Fjeld long before those Scotch Stories appeared
in print, and so, as some of these stories say, I could tell them
nothing about it.

Karin was not so good a story-teller as Christine, but she still told
her story well. Besides, it was harder to tell, and required an effort
of memory, like that needed in our _This is the House that Jack built_.
_The Greedy Cat_ has a wildness of its own, and is full of humour. Here
it is--

THE GREEDY CAT.

"Once on a time there was a man who had a cat, and she was so awfully
big, and such a beast to eat, he couldn't keep her any longer. So she
was to go down to the river with a stone round her neck, but before she
started she was to have a meal of meat. So the goody set before her a
bowl of porridge and a little trough of fat. That she crammed into her,
and ran off and jumped through the window. Outside stood the goodman by
the barn door, threshing.

"'Good day, goodman,' said the cat.

"'Good day, pussy,' said the goodman; 'have you had any food to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge and a trough of fat--and, now I think of it,
I'll take you too,' and so she took the goodman and gobbled him up.

"When she had done that, she went into the byre, and there sat the goody
milking.

"'Good day, goody,' said the cat.

"'Good day, pussy,' said the goody; 'are you here, and have you eaten up
your food yet?'

"'Oh, I've eaten a little to-day, but I'm 'most fasting,' said pussy;
'it was only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the
goodman--and, now I think of it, I'll take you too,' and so she took the
goody and gobbled her up.

"'Good day, you cow at the manger,' said the cat to Daisy the cow.

"'Good day, pussy,' said the bell-cow; 'have you had any food to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'I've
only had a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and
the goody--and, now I think of it, I'll take you too,' and so she took
the cow and gobbled her up.

"Then off she set up into the home-field, and there stood a man picking
up leaves.

"'Good day, you leaf-picker in the field,' said the cat.

"'Good day, pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?' said the
leaf-picker.

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman and the
goody, and Daisy the cow--and, now I think of it, I'll take you too.' So
she took the leaf-picker and gobbled him up.

"Then she came to a heap of stones, and there stood a stoat and peeped
out.

"'Good day, Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker--and, now I think of it, I'll
take you too.' So she took the stoat and gobbled him up.

"When she had gone a bit farther, she came to a hazel-brake, and there
sat a squirrel gathering nuts.

"'Good day, Sir Squirrel of the Brake,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"When she had gone a little farther, she saw Reynard the Fox, who was
prowling about by the woodside.

"'Good day, Reynard Slyboots,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"When she had gone a while farther she met Long Ears the Hare.

"'Good day, Mr. Hopper the Hare,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"When she had gone a bit farther, she met a wolf.

"'Good day, you Greedy Greylegs,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"So she went on into the wood, and when she had gone far and farther
than far, o'er hill and dale, she met a bear-cub.

"'Good day, you bare-breeched Bear,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy,' said the bear-cub; 'have you had anything to
eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf--and, now I think of
it, I may as well take you too,' and so she took the bear-cub and
gobbled him up.

"When the cat had gone a bit farther, she met a she-bear, who was
tearing away at a stump till the splinters flew, so angry was she at
having lost her cub.

"'Good day, you Mrs. Bruin,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the
bear-cub--and, now I think of it, I'll take you too,' and so she took
Mrs. Bruin and gobbled her up too.

"When the cat got still farther on, she met Baron Bruin himself.

"'Good day, you Baron Bruin,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy,' said Bruin; 'have you had anything to eat
to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and
the she-bear--and, now I think of it, I'll take you too,' and so she
took Bruin and ate him up too.

"So the cat went on and on, and farther than far, till she came to the
abodes of men again, and there she met a bridal train on the road.

"'Good day, you bridal train on the king's highway,' said she.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and
the she-bear, and the he-bear--and, now I think of it, I'll take you
too,' and so she rushed at them, and gobbled up both the bride and
bridegroom, and the whole train, with the cook and the fiddler, and the
horses, and all.

"When she had gone still farther, she came to a church, and there she
met a funeral.

"'Good day, you funeral train,' said she.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and
the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom and the
whole train--and, now, I don't mind if I take you too,' and so she fell
on the funeral train and gobbled up both the body and the bearers.

"Now when the cat had got the body in her, she was taken up to the sky,
and when she had gone a long, long way, she met the moon.

"'Good day, Mrs. Moon,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and
the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom and the
whole train, and the funeral train--and, now I think of it, I don't mind
if I take you too,' and so she seized hold of the moon, and gobbled her
up, both new and full.

"So the cat went a long way still, and then she met the sun.

"'Good day, you Sun in heaven.'

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy,' said the sun; 'have you had anything to eat
to-day?'

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting,' said the cat; 'it was
only a bowl of porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the
goody, and the cow, and the leaf-picker, and the stoat, and the
squirrel, and the fox, and the hare, and the wolf, and the bear-cub, and
the she-bear, and the he-bear, and the bride and bridegroom, and the
whole train, and the funeral train, and the moon--and, now I think of
it, I don't mind if I take you too,' and so she rushed at the sun in
heaven and gobbled him up.

"So the cat went far and farther than far, till she came to a bridge,
and on it she met a big Billygoat.

"'Good day, you Billygoat on Broad-bridge,' said the cat.

"'Good day, Mrs. Pussy; have you had anything to eat to-day?' said the
Billygoat.

"'Oh, I've had a little, but I'm 'most fasting; I've only had a bowl of
porridge, and a trough of fat, and the goodman, and the goody in the
byre, and Daisy the cow at the manger, and the leaf-picker in the
home-field, and Mr. Stoat of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake,
and Reynard Slyboots, and Mr. Hopper the Hare, and Greedy Greylegs the
Wolf, and Bare-breech the Bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and
a Bridal train on the king's highway, and a Funeral at the church, and
Lady Moon in the sky, and Lord Sun in heaven, and, now I think of it,
I'll take you too.'

"'That we'll fight about," said the Billygoat, and butted at the cat
till she fell right over the bridge into the river, and there she burst.

"So they all crept out one after the other, and went about their
business, and were just as good as ever, all that the cat had gobbled
up. The Goodman of the house, and the Goody in the byre, and Daisy the
cow at the manger, and the Leaf-picker in the home-field, and Mr. Stoat
of Stoneheap, and Sir Squirrel of the Brake, and Reynard Slyboots, and
Mr. Hopper the Hare, and Greedy Greylegs the Wolf, and Bare-breech the
Bear-cub, and Mrs. Bruin, and Baron Bruin, and the Bridal train on the
highway, and the Funeral train at the church, and Lady Moon in the Sky,
and Lord Sun in heaven."

PETER THE FORESTER AND GRUMBLEGIZZARD.

When the girls had ended, we all laughed at the droll turn out of Sun,
Moon, and Co. from the cat's maw; and I was just going to repay them
with a Scotch story, when there came a great knock at the door.

Who could it be? said the girls. Father and mother would not come up
from the dale in such weather. Who could it be? Perhaps one of the Hill
folk. Perhaps a Huldra.

"Nonsense, lassies!" said Anders; "even if it were anything uncanny, we
have guns enough here to fire a shot over a whole pack of them, and men
enough to fire them too. Don't stand dawdling there, Karin, but open the
door."

Karin did as she was bid, and drew back the wooden bolt.

"My!" she cried, "if it isn't Peter the Forester! Come in, Peter. Come
in."

In strode Peter, a strapping fellow, long past youth, but still hale and
hearty. His tight-fitting breeches and hose showed a well-knit frame;
over his many-buttoned jacket he wore a loose cloak of russet woollen
stuff, "Wadmel," as they call it in the north of Scotland, and "Vadmal,"
as they call it in Norway. A broad, flapping wide-awake covered his
head, which on this occasion was tied down across the top, and under the
chin by a red cotton kerchief. On his shoulder was his rifle.

"Why, Peter," said Anders, "what brought you out in such Deil's
weather?"

"Well!" said Peter, "the owner of the sawmills down at the end of the
dale on the other side of the Fjeld, sent me up here last night to see
if I could mark down any reindeer for him; and so I came, though I told
him 'twas no use. The poor, silly body fancies the deer are like a pack
of barn-door fowls, that you can count morning and evening, as they go
out and come home to roost. He little thinks that the deer seen to-day
here, are to-morrow fifty miles off, or more; but as I wanted to cross
the Fjeld, and look at the forest on the other side down in the dale, I
said I would come and tell him if I saw any deer; and to make a long
story short, I came, and thought to get here last night; but just on the
edge of the Fjeld it grew dark as pitch, and so I crept into a reft in
the rocks, and spent the night as I best could. Luckily I had fladbrod
and gammelost, and a flask of brandy, else I should have fared badly.
But here I am, drenched to the skin, and nigh starved. Let me have a
pair of dry stockings, and a bowl of milk, and make myself comfortable.
But God's peace! I did not see you had English lords here. Good day!
Good day! After deer, too, no doubt. Did you see the deer yesterday?"

While Anders told him in a low voice who we were, in which story
Edward's mishap was sure to find a place, Peter took off his shoes and
stockings, and put on dry ones, and then draining off his bowl of milk,
sate before the fire to enjoy his pipe.

But Anders was not going to let him off so lightly.

"You must often hear and see strange things in the woods, and on the
Fjeld, Peter!"

"Aye! aye!" replied Peter, under a cloud of puffs, to this rather
leading question. "Aye, aye, I have both heard and seen many things.
Strange sounds and noises; sometimes for all the world like the sweetest
music."

"And what made it?" I asked.

"What made it!" scornfully replied Peter, "why the Huldror--the
fairies."

"The fairies! then you believe in the Good People?"

"Good or bad," said Peter, "and I think they are more often bad than
good, by their leave be it spoken; for to tell the truth, they say this
very Saeter was haunted in old days. Good or bad, why shouldn't I believe
in them? Doesn't the Bible speak of evil spirits? and if I believe in
the Bible I must believe in them."

I was too eager to get out of Peter what he knew about the Hill folk or
Huldror or fairies, to stop to discuss his dictum as to the Bible, so I
said,

"But do tell us what you saw yourself."

"Well!" said Peter, "once in August I was sitting on a knoll by the side
of a path, with bushes on each side, so that I could look across the
path down into a little hollow full of heath and ling. I was out calling
birds, for I can call them by their notes, and just then I heard a grey
hen call among the heather, and I called to her and thought, 'If I only
set eyes on you, you shall have gobbled and cackled your last.' Then all
at once I heard something come rustling behind me along the path, and I
turned round and saw an old, old man; he was a strange looking chap
altogether, but the strangest thing about him was that he had--at least
so it seemed to me--three legs; and the third leg hung and dangled
between the other two right down to the ground, and so he walked along
the path. When I say 'walked,' it wasn't walking either, but a sliding,
sloping motion, and so he went along, and I lost sight of him in one of
the darkest hollows of the glen. Now if that were not a fairy I should
like to know what it was?"

"Why an old gaberlunzie man, who helped himself along going down hill
with his stick behind him," said I. "Come, come, Peter, you must know
better stories than that. Tell us something that you have not seen, but
only heard tell of. Can't you tell us 'Grumblegizzard?'" For that, you
must know, was the name of a Norse tale that I had often heard of but
never yet heard.

"Yes! yes," said Anders. "Peter knows it, I'll be bound."

"Well!" said Peter, "it's a queer story, but here it is. This is the
story of

GRUMBLEGIZZARD.

"Once on a time there were five goodies, who were all reaping in a
field; they were all childless, and all wished to have a bairn. All at
once they set eyes on a strangely big goose-egg, almost as big as a
man's head.

"'I saw it first,' said one.

"'I saw it just as soon as you,' screamed another.

"'Heaven help me, but I will have it,' swore the third; 'I was the first
to see it.'

"So they flocked round it and squabbled so much about the egg that they
were tearing one another's hair. But at last they agreed that they would
own it in common, all five of them, and each was to sit on it in turn
like a goose, and so hatch the gosling. The first lay sitting eight
days, and sat and sat, but nothing came of it; meanwhile the others had
to drag about to find food both for themselves and her. At last one of
them began to scold her.

"'Well,' said the one that sat, 'you did not chip the egg yourself before
you could cry, not you; but this egg, I think, has something in it, for
it seems to me to mumble, and this is what it says, "Herrings and brose,
porridge and milk, all at once." And now you may come and sit for eight
days too, and we will change and change about and get food for you.'

"So when all five had sat on it eight days, the fifth heard plainly that
there was a gosling in the egg, which screeched out, 'Herrings and
brose, porridge and milk;' so she picked a hole in it, but instead of a
gosling out came a man child, and awfully ugly it was, with a big head
and little body. And the first thing it bawled out when it chipped the
egg, was 'Herrings and brose, porridge and milk.'

"So they called it 'Grumblegizzard.'

"Ugly as it was, they were still glad to have it, at first; but it was
not long before it got so greedy that it ate up all the meat in their
house. When they boiled a kettle of soup or a pot of porridge, which
they thought would be enough for all six, it tossed it all down its own
throat. So they would not keep it any longer.

"'I've not known what it is to have a full meal since this changeling
crept out of the egg-shell,' said one of them, and when Grumblegizzard
heard that all the rest were of the same mind, he said he was quite
willing to be off. If they did not care for him, he didn't care for
them; and with that he strode off from the farm.

"After a long time he came to a farmer's house, which lay in a stone
country, and there he asked for a place. Well, they wanted a labourer,
and the goodman set him to pick up stones off the field. Yes!
Grumblegizzard gathered the stones from the field, and he took them so
big that there were many horse-loads in them, and whether they were big
or little, he stuffed them all into his pocket. 'Twas not long before he
was done with that work, and then he wanted to know what he was to do
next.

"'I've told you to pluck out the stones from the field,' said the
goodman, 'you can't be done before you begin, I trow.'

"But Grumblegizzard turned out his pockets and threw the stones in a
heap. Then the goodman saw that he had done his work, and felt he ought
to keep a workman who was so strong. He had better come in and have
something to eat, he said. Grumblegizzard thought so too, and he alone
ate all that was ready for the master and mistress and for the servants,
and after all he was not half full.

"'That was a man and a half to work, but a fearful fellow to eat, too;
there was no stopping him,' said the goodman. 'Such a labourer would eat
a poor farmer out of house and home before one could turn round.'

"So he told him he had no more work for him. He had best be off to the
king's grange.

"Then Grumblegizzard strode on to the king, and got a place at once. In
the king's grange there was enough both of work and food. He was to be
odd man, and help the lasses to bring in wood and water and other small
jobs. So he asked what he was to do first.

"'Oh, if you would be so good as to chop us a little firewood.'

"Yes. Grumblegizzard fell to chopping and hewing till the splinters flew
about him. 'Twas not long before he had chopped up all that there was,
both of firewood and timber, both planks and beams; and when he had done
he came back and asked what he was to do now.

"'Go on chopping wood,' they said.

"'There's no more left to chop,' said he.

"'That couldn't be true,' said the king's grieve, and he went and looked
out in the wood-yard. But it was quite true; Grumblegizzard had chopped
everything up; he had made firewood both of sawn planks and hewn beams.
That was bad work, the grieve said, and he told him he should not taste
a morsel of food till he had gone into the forest and cut down as much
timber as he had chopped up into firewood.

"Grumblegizzard went off to the smithy, and got the smith to help him to
make an axe of fifteen pounds of iron; and so he went into the forest
and began to clear it; down toppled tall spruces and firs fit for masts.
Everything went down that he found either on the king's or his
neighbour's ground; he did not stay to top or lop them, and there they
lay like so many windfalls. Then he laid a good load on a sledge, and
put all the horses to it, but they could not stir the load from the
spot, and when he took them by the heads and wished to set them a-going,
he pulled their heads off. Then he tumbled the horses out of the traces
on to the ground, and drew the load home by himself.

"When he came down to the king's grange the king and his wood-grieve
stood in the gallery to take him to task for having been so wasteful in
the forest--the wood-grieve had been up to see what he was at--but when
Grumblegizzard came along dragging back half a wood of timber, the king
got both angry and afraid, and he thought he must be careful with him,
since he was so strong.

"'That I call a workman, and no mistake,' said the king; 'but how much
do you eat at once, for now you may well be hungry.'

"'When he was to have a good meal of porridge, he could do with twelve
barrels of meal,' said Grumblegizzard; 'but when he had got so much
inside him, he could hold out for some time.'

"It took time to get the porridge boiled, and, meantime, he was to draw
in a little wood for the cook; so he laid the whole pile of wood on a
sledge, but when he was to get through the doorway with it, he got into
a scrape again. The house was so shaken that it gave way at every joist,
and he was within an ace of dragging the whole grange over on end.

"When the hour drew near for dinner, they sent him out to call home the
folk from the field; he bawled and bellowed so that the rocks and hills
rang again; but they did not come quick enough for him, so he fell out
with them, and slew twelve of them on the spot.

"'He has slain twelve men,' said the king; 'and he eats for twelve times
twelve. But for how many do you work, I should like to know?'

"'For twelve times twelve, too,' said Grumblegizzard.

"When he had eaten his dinner, he was to go out into the barn to thrash,
so he took off the roof-tree and made a flail out of it; and, when the
roof was just about to fall, he took a great spruce fir, branches and
all, and stuck it up for a roof-tree; and then he thrashed the floor and
the straw, and hay, altogether. He did great harm, for the grain and
chaff and beard flew about together, and a cloud arose over the whole
grange.

"When he was nearly done thrashing, enemies came into the land; and
there was to be war. So the king told him to take folk with him and go
on the way to meet the foe and fight them, for he thought they would put
him to death. 'No! he would have no folk with him to be slain; he would
fight alone, that he would,' said Grumblegizzard.

"'All the better, I shall be sooner rid of him,' said the king.

"But he must have a mighty club.

"They sent off to the smith to forge a club of fifty pounds. 'That might
do very well to crack nuts,' said Grumblegizzard. So they smithied him
one of a hundred pounds. 'That might do well enough to nail shoes with,'
he said. Well, the smith couldn't smithy it any bigger with all his men.
So Grumblegizzard went off to the smithy himself, and forged a club of
fifteen tons, and it took a hundred men to turn it on the anvil. 'That
might do,' said Grumblegizzard.

"Besides, he must have a scrip for food; and he made one out of fifteen
oxhides, and stuffed it full of food. And so he toddled off down the
hill with his scrip at his back and his club on his shoulder.

"So, when he had got so far that the enemy saw him, they sent out a man
to ask if he were coming against them.

"'Bide a bit, till I have had my dinner,' said Grumblegizzard, as he
threw himself down on the road, and fell to eating behind his great
scrip.

"But they couldn't wait, and began to shoot at him at once, so that it
rained and hailed rifle bullets.

"'These bilberries I don't mind a bit,' said Grumblegizzard, and fell to
eating harder than ever.

"Neither lead nor iron could touch him, and before him was his scrip,
like a wall, and kept off the fire.

"So they took to throwing shells at him, and to fire cannons at him; and
he just grinned a little every time they hit him.

"'Ah! ah! it's all no good,' he said. But, just then, he got a bombshell
right down his throat.

"'Fie!' he said, and spat it out again; and then came a chain-shot and
made its way into his butter-box, and another took the bit he was just
going to eat from between his fingers. Then he got angry, and rose up,
and took his club, and dashed it on the ground, and asked if they were
going to snatch the bread out of his mouth with their bilberries, which
they puffed out of big peashooters. Then he gave a few more strokes,
till the rocks and hills shook, and the enemy flew into the air like
chaff, and so the war was over."

* * * * *

Having got so far, Peter said he must take breath, and called for
another bowl of milk, and while he refreshed himself, we all waited
open-mouthed for the rest of the story of Grumblegizzard.

* * * * *

"When Grumblegizzard got home again and wanted more work, the king was
in a sad way, for he thought he should have been rid of him that time,
and now he could think of nothing but to send him to hell.

"'You must be off to Old Nick, and ask for my land-tax.'

"Grumblegizzard set off from the grange, with his scrip on his back and
his club on his shoulder. He lost no time on the way, but, when he got
there, Old Nick was gone to serve on a jury. There was no one at home
but his mother, and she said she had never in her born days heard talk
of any land-tax; he had better come again another day.

"'Yes, yes! come to me to-morrow,' said Grumblegizzard. 'That's all
stuff and nonsense, for to-morrow never comes.' Now he was there, he
would stay there. He must and would have the land-tax, and he had lots
of time to wait.

"But when he had eaten up all his food, the time hung heavy, and so he
went and asked the old dame to give him the land-tax. She must pay it
down.

"'No,' she said, 'she couldn't do it. That stood as fast as the old
fir-tree,' she said, 'that grew outside the gate of hell, and was so big
that fifteen men could scarcely span it when they held hands.'

"But Grumblegizzard climbed up to the top of it, and twisted and turned
it about like an osier; and then he asked if she were ready with the
land-tax.

"Yes, she dared not do anything else, and found so many pence as he
thought he could carry in his scrip.

"And now he started for home with the land-tax; but, as soon as he was
off, Old Nick came back. When he heard that Grumblegizzard had stridden
off from his house with his big scrip full of money, he first of all
beat and banged his mother, and then ran after him to catch him on the
way.

"And he caught him up, too, for he ran light, and used his wings, while
Grumblegizzard had to keep to the ground under the weight of the big
scrip; but, just as Old Nick was at his heels, he began to run and jump
as fast as he could; and he held his club behind him to keep Old Nick
off.

"And so they went along, Grumblegizzard holding the haft, and Old Nick
clawing at the head, till they came to a deep dale; there Grumblegizzard
leapt from one hill-top to the other, and Old Nick was so hot to follow,
that he tripped over the club and fell down into the dale, and broke his
leg, and so there he lay.

"'Here you have the land-tax,' said Grumblegizzard, as he came to the
king's grange, and dashed down the scripful of money before the king, so
that the whole gallery creaked and cracked.

"The king thanked him, and put a good face on it, and promised him good
pay and a safe pass home if he cared to have it; but all Grumblegizzard
wanted was more work.

"'What shall I do now?' he asked. Well, when the king had thought about
it, he said he had better travel to the Hill Troll, who had carried off
his grandfather's sword to that castle he had by the lake, whither no
one dared to go.

"So Grumblegizzard got several loads of food into his big scrip, and set
off again; and he fared both far and long, over wood and fell, and wild
wastes, till he came to some high hills, where the Troll was said to
dwell, who had taken the king's grandfather's sword.

"But the Troll was not to be seen under bare sky, and the hill was fast
shut, so that even Grumblegizzard was not man enough to get in.

"So he joined fellowship with some quarrymen, who were living at a hill
farm, and who lay up there quarrying stone in those hills. Such help
they never yet had, for he beat and battered the fell till the rocks
were rent, and great stones were rolled down as big as houses; but when
he was to rest at noon, and take out one load of food, the whole scrip
was clean eaten out.

"'I'm a pretty good trencherman myself,' said Grumblegizzard; 'but
whoever has been here, has a sharper tooth, for he has eaten up bones
and all.'

"That was how things went the first day, and it was no better the next.
The third day he set off to quarry stones again, and took with him the
third meal of food; but he laid down behind it, and shammed sleep.

"Just then there came out of the hill a Troll with seven heads, and
began to munch and eat his food.

"'Now the board is laid, and I will eat,' said the Troll.

"'That we'll have a tussle for,' said Grumblegizzard; and gave him a
blow with his club, and knocked off all his seven heads at once.

"So he went into the hill, out of which the Troll had come, and in there
stood a horse, which ate out of a tub of glowing coals, and at its heels
stood a tub of oats.

"'Why don't you eat out of the tub of oats?' said Grumblegizzard.

"'Because I am not able to turn round,' said the horse.

"'I'll soon turn you,' said he.

"'Rather strike off my head,' said the horse.

"So he struck it off, and then the horse was turned into a handsome man.
He said he had been taken into the hill by the Troll, and turned into a
horse, and then he helped him to find the sword, which the Troll had
hidden at the bottom of his bed, and upon the bed lay the Troll's old
mother, asleep and snoring.

"Home again they went by water, and when they had got well out, the old
witch came after them; as she could not catch them, she fell to drinking
the lake dry, and she drank and drank, till the water in the lake fell;
but she could not drink the sea dry, and so she burst.

"When they came to shore, Grumblegizzard sent a message to the king, to
come and fetch his sword. He sent four horses. No! they could not stir
it; he sent eight, and he sent twelve; but the sword stayed where it
was, they could not move it an inch. But Grumblegizzard took it up
alone, and bore it along.

"The king could not believe his eyes, when he saw Grumblegizzard again;
but he put a good face on it, and promised him gold, and green woods;
and when Grumblegizzard wanted more work, he said he had better set off
for a haunted castle he had, where no one dared to be, and there he must
sleep till he had built a bridge over the Sound, so that folk could pass
over. If he were good to do that he would pay him well; nay, he would be
glad to give him his daughter to wife.

"'Yes! yes! I am good to do that,' said Grumblegizzard.

"No man had ever left that castle alive; those who reached it lay there
slain and torn to bits, and the king thought he should never see him
more, if he only got him to go thither.

"But Grumblegizzard set off; and he took with him his scrip of food, a
very tough and twisted stump of a fir-tree, an axe, a wedge, and a few
matches, and besides, he took the workhouse boy from the king's grange.

"When they got to the Sound, the river ran full of ice, and was as
headlong as a force; but he stuck his legs fast at the bottom, and waded
on till he got over at last.

"When he had lighted a fire and warmed himself, and got a bit of food,
he tried to sleep; but it was not long before there was such a noise and
din, as though the whole castle was turned topsy-turvy. The door blew
back against the wall, and he saw nothing but a gaping jaw, from the
threshold up to the lintel.

"'There, you have a bit, taste that!' said Grumblegizzard, as he threw
the workhouse boy into the gaping maw.

"'Now let me see you, what kind you are. May be we are old friends.'

"So it was, for it was Old Nick, who was outside. Then they took to
playing cards, for the Old One wanted to try and win back some of the
land-tax, which Grumblegizzard had squeezed out of his mother, when he
went to ask it for the king; but whichever way they cut the cards,
Grumblegizzard won, for he put a cross on all the court cards, and when
he had won all his ready money, Old Nick was forced to give
Grumblegizzard some of the gold and silver that was in the castle.

"Just as they were hard at it the fire went out, so that they could not
tell one card from another.

"'Now we must chop wood,' said Grumblegizzard, and with that he drove
his axe into the fir stump, and thrust the wedge in; but the gnarled
root was tough, and would not split at once, however much he twisted and
turned his axe.

"'They say you are very strong,' he said to Old Nick; 'spit in your
fists and bear a hand with your claws, and rive and rend, and let me see
the stuff you are made of.'

"Old Nick did so, and put both his fists into the split, and strove to
rend it with might and main, but, at the same time, Grumblegizzard
struck the wedge out, and Old Nick was caught in a trap; and then
Grumblegizzard tried his back with his axe. Old Nick begged and prayed
so prettily to be let go, but Grumblegizzard was hard of hearing on that
side till he gave his word never to come there again, and make a noise.
And so, he too, had to promise to build a bridge over the Sound, so that
folks could pass over it at all times of the year, and it was to be
ready when the ice was gone.

"'This is a hard bargain,' said Old Nick. But there was no help for it,
if he wished to get out. He had to give his word; only, he bargained, he
was to have the first soul that passed over the bridge. That was to be
the Sound due.

"'That he should have,' said Grumblegizzard. So he got loose, and went
home; but Grumblegizzard lay down to sleep, and slept till far on next
day.

"So, when the king came to see if he was hacked to pieces, or torn to
bits, he had to wade through heaps of money before he could get to the
bed. It lay in piles and sacks high up the wall: but Grumblegizzard lay
in the bed asleep and snoring.

"'God help both me and my daughter,' said the king when he saw that
Grumblegizzard was alive and rich. Yes, all was good and well done;
there was no gainsaying that. But it was not worth while talking of the
wedding till the bridge was ready.

"So, one day, the bridge stood ready, and Old Nick stood on it to take
the toll he had bargained for.

"Now Grumblegizzard wanted to take the king with him to try the bridge,
but he had no mind to do that. So he got up himself on a horse, and
threw the fat milkmaid from the king's grange upon the pommel before
him;--she looked for all the world like a big fir-stump--and then he
rode over till the bridge thundered under him.

"'Where is the Sound due? Where have you put the soul?' screamed Old
Nick.

"'It sits inside this stump. If you want it, spit in your fists and take
it,' said Grumblegizzard.

"'Nay, nay! many thanks,' said Old Nick. 'If she doesn't take me, I'll
not take her. You caught me once, and you shan't catch me again in a
cleft stick;' and, with that, he flew off straight home to his old
mother; and, since then, he has never been seen or heard in those parts.

"But Grumblegizzard went home to the king's grange, and wanted the wages
the king had promised him; and when the king tried to wriggle out of it,
and would not keep his word, Grumblegizzard said he had better pack up a
good scrip of food, for he was going to take his wages himself. Yes, the
king did that: and, when all was ready, Grumblegizzard took the king out
before the door, and gave him a good push and sent him flying up into
the air. As for the scrip, he threw it after him, that he might have
something to eat. And, if he hasn't come down again, there he is still
hanging, with his scrip, between Heaven and Earth, to this very day that
now is."

PETER'S THREE TALES.

When _Grumblegizzard_ was over, we all laughed so that Peter was quite
in good humour. At first he had not liked the doubt thrown on his vision
of the old fairy man, but our applause soothed his ruffled spirit.

"As you like stories," he said, "I'll tell you three short ones right
off, and then I'll call on Anders to tell one. The first is_ Father
Bruin in the Corner_, and it shows too what tongues old wives have, and
how there's no stopping them even in a pitfall. Many's the time I've
trapped Bruin, and Graylegs, and Reynard, in a pit; but I never yet
trapped an old woman, and I hope I never shall. It would be like
shearing a pig, 'all cry and no wool.' But here is the story."

FATHER BRUIN IN THE CORNER.

"Once on a time there was a man who lived far, far away in the wood. He
had many, many goats and sheep, but never a one could he keep for fear
of Graylegs, the wolf.

"At last he said, 'I'll soon trap Grayboots,' and so he set to work
digging a pitfall. When he had dug it deep enough, he put a polo down in
the midst of the pit, and on the top of the pole he set a board, and on
the board he put a little dog. Over the pit itself he spread boughs and
branches and leaves, and other rubbish, and a-top of all he strewed
snow, so that Graylegs might not see there was a pit underneath.

"So when it got on in the night, the little dog grew weary of sitting
there: 'Bow-wow, bow-wow,' it said, and bayed at the moon. Just then up
came a fox, slouching and sneaking, and thought here was a fine time for
marketing, and with that gave a jump--head over heels down into the
pitfall.

"And when it got a little farther on in the night, the little dog got so
weary and so hungry, and it fell to yelping and howling: 'Bow-wow,
bow-wow,' it cried out. Just at that very moment up came Graylegs,
trotting and trotting. He, too, thought he should get a fat steak, and
he too made a spring--head over heels down into the pitfall.

"When it was getting on towards gray dawn in the morning, down fell
snow, with a north wind, and it grew so cold that the little dog stood
and froze, and shivered and shook; it was so weary and hungry, 'Bow-wow,
bow-wow, bow-wow,' it called out, and barked and yelled and howled. Then
up came a bear, tramping and tramping along, and thought to himself how
he could get a morsel for breakfast at the very top of the morning, and
so he thought and thought among the boughs and branches till he too went
bump--head over heels down into the pitfall.

"So when it got a little further on in the morning, an old beggar wife
came walking by, who toddled from farm to farm with a bag on her back.
When she set eyes on the little dog that stood there and howled, she
couldn't help going near to look and see if any wild beasts had fallen
into the pit during the night. So she crawled up on her knees and peeped
down into it.

"'Art thou come into the pit at last, Reynard?' she said to the fox, for
he was the first she saw; 'a very good place, too, for such a hen-roost
robber as thou: and thou, too, Graypaw,' she said to the wolf; 'many a
goat and sheep hast thou torn and rent, and now thou shalt be plagued
and punished to death. Bless my heart! Thou, too, Bruin! art thou, too,
sitting in this room, thou mare-flayer? Thee, too, will we strip, and
thee shall we flay, and thy skull shall be nailed up on the wall.' All
this the old lass screeched out as she bent over towards the bear. But
just then her bag fell over her ears, and dragged her down, and slap!
down went the old crone--head over heels into the pitfall.

"So there they all four sat and glared at one another, each in a corner.
The fox in one, Graylegs in another, Bruin in a third, and the old crone
in a fourth.

"But as soon as it was broad daylight, Reynard began to peep and peer,
and to twist and turn about, for he thought he might as well try to get
out. But the old lass cried out,--

"'Canst thou not sit still, thou whirligig thief, and not go twisting
and turning? Only look at Father Bruin himself in the corner, how he
sits as grave as a judge,' for now she thought she might as well make
friends with the bear. But just then up came the man who owned the
pitfall. First he drew up the old wife, and after that he slew all the
beasts, and neither spared Father Bruin himself in the corner, nor
Graylegs, nor Reynard, the whirligig thief. That night, at least, he
thought he had made a good haul."

* * * * *

"The next story," said Peter, "is also out of the wood. It isn't often
that Reynard gets cheated, but even the wisest folk sometimes get the
worst of it, and so it was with Reynard in this story."

REYNARD AND CHANTICLEER.

"Once on a time there was a Cock who stood on a dung-heap, and crew, and
flapped his wings. Then the Fox came by.

"'Good day,' said Reynard, 'I heard you crowing so nicely; but can you
stand on one leg and crow, and wink your eyes?'

"'Oh, yes,' said Chanticleer. 'I can do that very well.' So he stood on
one leg and crew; but he winked only with one eye, and when he had done
that he made himself big and flapped his wings, as though he had done a
great thing.

"'Very pretty, to be sure,' said Reynard. 'Almost as pretty as when the
parson preaches in church; but can you stand on one leg and wink both
your eyes at once? I hardly think you can.'

"'Can't I though!' said Chanticleer, and stood on one leg, and winked
both his eyes, and crew. But Reynard caught hold of him, took him by the
throat, and threw him over his back, so that he was off to the wood
before he had crowed his crow out, as fast as Reynard could lay legs to
the ground.

"When they had come under an old spruce fir, Reynard threw Chanticleer
on the ground, set his paw on his breast, and was going to take a bite!

"'You are a heathen, Reynard!' said Chanticleer. 'Good Christians say
grace, and ask a blessing before they eat.'

"But Reynard would be no heathen. God forbid it! So he let go his hold,
and was about to fold his paws over his breast and say grace--but pop!
up flew Chanticleer into a tree.

"'You sha'n't get off for all that,' said Reynard to himself. So he went
away, and came again with a few chips, which the woodcutters had left.
Chanticleer peeped and peered to see what they could be.

"'Whatever have you got there?' he asked.

"'These are letters I have just got,' said Reynard, 'won't you help me
to read them, for I don't know how to read writing.'

"'I'd be so happy, but I dare not read them now; said Chanticleer; 'for
here comes a hunter, I see him, I see him, as I sit by the tree trunk.'

"When Reynard heard Chanticleer chattering about a hunter, he took to
his heels as quick as he could.

"This time it was Reynard who was made game of.

* * * * *

"The third story," said Peter, "is about an old fellow who was as deaf
as a post, and who had a goody who was no better than she should have
been. Where he lived I'm sure I don't know, but I've heard it said he
lived in different parts of the country, both north of Stad and south of
Stad; but at any rate this is the story."

GOODMAN AXEHAFT.

"There was once a ferryman who was so hard of hearing he could neither
hear nor catch anything that any one said to him. He had a goody and a
daughter, and they did not care a pin for the goodman, but lived in
mirth and jollity so long as there was aught to live on, and then they
took to running up a bill with the inn-keeper, and gave parties, and had
feasts every day.

"So when no one would trust them any longer, the sheriff was to come and
seize for what they owed and had wasted. Then the goody and her child
set off for her kinsfolk, and left the deaf husband behind, all alone,
to see the sheriff and the bailiff.

"Well, there stood the man and pottered about and wondered what the
sheriff wanted to ask, and what he should say when he came.

"'If I take to doing something,' he said to himself, 'he'll be sure to
ask me something about it. I'll just begin to cut out an axehaft, so
when he asks me what that is to be, I shall answer, "Axehaft." Then
he'll ask how long it is to be, and I'll say, "Up as far as this twig
that sticks out." Then he'll ask, "What's become of the ferry-boat?" and
I'll say, "I am going to tar her; and yonder she lies on the strand,
split at both ends." Then he'll ask, "Where's your grey mare?" and I'll
answer, "She is standing in the stable, big with foal." Then he'll ask,
"Whereabouts is your sheepcote and shieling?" and I'll say, "Not far
off; when you get a bit up the hill you'll soon see them."'

"All this he thought well-planned.

"A little while after in came the sheriff; he was true to time, but as
for his man, he had gone another way round by an inn, and there he sat
still drinking.

"'Good-day, sir,' he said.

"'Axehaft,' said the ferryman.

"'So, so," said the sheriff. 'How far off is it to the inn?'

"'Right up to this twig,' said the man, and pointed a little way up the
piece of timber.

"The sheriff shook his head and stared at him open-mouthed.

"'Where is your mistress, pray?'

"'I am just going to tar her,' said the ferryman, 'for yonder she lies
on the strand, split open at both ends.'

"'Where is your daughter?'

"'Oh, she stands in the stable, big with foal,' answered the man, who
thought he answered very much to the purpose.

"'Oh, go to hell with you,' said the sheriff.

"'Very good; 'tis not so far off; when you get a bit up the hill, you'll
soon get there,' said the man.

"So the sheriff was floored, and went away."

THE COMPANION.

We all thought Peter's three stories first rate, but he was not going to
be put off with praise, and asked Anders if he knew _The Companion_.

"Yes," was the answer, "but it's a long story, though a very good one."

"If it's long, the sooner you begin it the better," said Peter; "and
then it will be sooner over."

Anders made no more mouths about it, but began:

THE COMPANION.

"Once on a time there was a farmer's son who dreamt that he was to marry
a princess far, far out in the world. She was as red and white as milk
and blood, and so rich there was no end to her riches. When he awoke he
seemed to see her still standing bright and living before him, and he
thought her so sweet and lovely that his life was not worth having
unless he had her too. So he sold all he had, and set off into the world
to find her out. Well, he went far, and farther than far, and about
winter he came to a land where all the high-roads lay right straight on
end; there wasn't a bend in any of them. When he had wandered on and on
for a quarter of a year he came to a town, and outside the church-door
lay a big block of ice, in which there stood a dead body, and the whole
parish spat on it as they passed by to church. The lad wondered at this,
and when the priest came out of church he asked him what it all meant.

"'It is a great wrong-doer,' said the priest. 'He has been executed for
his ungodliness, and set up there to be mocked and spat upon.'

"'But what was his wrong-doing?' asked the lad.

"'When he was alive here he was a vintner,' said the priest, 'and he
mixed water with his wine.'

"The lad thought that no such dreadful sin.

"'Well,' he said, 'after he had atoned for it with his life, you might
as well have let him have Christian burial and peace after death.'

"But the priest said that could not be in any wise, for there must be
folk to break him out of the ice, and money to buy a grave from the
church; then the grave-digger must be paid for digging the grave, and
the sexton for tolling the bell, and the clerk for singing the hymns,
and the priest for sprinkling dust over him.

"'Do you think now there would be any one who would be willing to pay
all this for an executed sinner?'

"'Yes,' said the lad. 'If he could only get him buried in Christian
earth, he would be sure to pay for his funeral ale out of his scanty
means.'

"Even after that the priest hemmed and hawed; but when the lad came with
two witnesses, and asked him right out in their hearing if he could
refuse to sprinkle dust over the corpse, he was forced to answer that he
could not.

"So they broke the vintner out of the block of ice, and laid him in
Christian earth, and they tolled the bell and sang hymns over him, and
the priest sprinkled dust over him, and they drank his funeral ale till
they wept and laughed by turns; but when the lad had paid for the ale he
hadn't many pence left in his pocket.

"He set off on his way again, but he hadn't got far ere a man overtook
him who asked if he did not think it dull work walking on all alone.

"No; the lad did not think it dull. 'I have always something to think
about,' he said.

"Then the man asked if he wouldn't like to have a servant.

"'No,' said the lad; 'I am wont to be my own servant, therefore I have
need of none; and even if I wanted one ever so much, I have no means to
get one, for I have no money to pay for his food and wages.'

"'You do need a servant, that I know better than you,' said the man,
'and you have need of one whom you can trust in life and death. If you
won't have me as a servant, you may take me as your companion; I give
you my word I will stand you in good stead, and it shan't cost you a
penny. I will pay my own fare, and as for food and clothing, you shall
have no trouble about them.'

"Well, on those terms he was willing enough to have him as his
companion; so after that they travelled together, and the man for the
most part went on ahead and showed the lad the way.

"So after they had travelled on and on from land to land, over hill and
wood, they came to a crossfell that stopped the way. There the companion
went up and knocked, and bade them open the door; and the rock opened
sure enough, and when they got inside the hill up came an old witch with
a chair, and asked them, 'Be so good as to sit down. No doubt ye are
weary.'

"'Sit on it yourself,' said the man. So she was forced to take her seat,
and as soon as she sat down she stuck fast, for the chair was such that
it let no one loose that came near it. Meanwhile they went about inside
the hill, and the companion looked round till he saw a sword hanging
over the door. That he would have, and if he got it he gave his word to
the old witch that he would let her loose out of the chair.

"'Nay, nay,' she screeched out; 'ask me anything else. Anything else you
may have, but not that, for it is my Three-Sister Sword; we are three
sisters who own it together.'

"Very well; then you may sit there till the end of the world,' said the
man. But when she heard that, she said he might have it if he would set
her free.

"So he took the sword and went off with it, and left her still sitting
there.

"When they had gone far, far away over naked fells and wide wastes, they
came to another crossfell. There, too, the companion knocked and bade
them open the door, and the same thing happened as happened before; the
rock opened, and when they had got a good way into the hill another old
witch came up to them with a chair and begged them to sit down. 'Ye may
well be weary,' she said.

"'Sit down yourself,' said the companion. And so she fared as her sister
had fared, she did not dare to say nay, and as soon as she came on the
chair she stuck fast. Meanwhile the lad and his companion went about in
the hill, and the man broke open all the chests and drawers till he
found what he sought, and that was a golden ball of yarn. That he set
his heart on, and he promised the old witch to set her free if she would
give him the golden ball. She said he might take all she had, but that
she could not part with; it was her Three-Sister Ball. But when she
heard that she should sit there till Doomsday unless he got it, she said
he might take it all the same if he would only set her free. So the
companion took the golden ball, but he left her sitting where she sat.

"So on they went for many days, over waste and wood, till they came to a
third crossfell. There all went as it had gone twice before. The
companion knocked, the rock opened, and inside the hill an old witch
came up, and asked them to sit on her chair, they must be tired. But the
companion said again, 'Sit on it yourself,' and there she sat. They had
not gone through many rooms before they saw an old hat which hung on a
peg behind the door. That the companion must and would have; but the old
witch couldn't part with it. It was her Three-Sister Hat, and if she
gave it away, all her luck would be lost. But when she heard that she
would have to sit there till the end of the world unless he got it, she
said he might take it if he would only let her loose. When the companion
had got well hold of the hat, he went off, and bade her sit there still,
like the rest of her sisters.

"After a long, long time, they came to a Sound; then the companion took
the ball of yarn, and threw it so hard against the rock on the other
side of the stream that it bounded back, and after he had thrown it
backwards and forwards a few times it became a bridge. On that bridge
they went over the Sound, and when they reached the other side, the man
bade the lad to be quick and wind up the yarn again as soon as he could,
for, said he:--

"'If we don't wind it up quick, all those witches will come after us,
and tear us to bits.'

"So the lad wound and wound with all his might and main, and when there
was no more to wind than the very last thread, up came the old witches
on the wings of the wind. They flew to the water, so that the spray rose
before them, and snatched at the end of the thread; but they could not
quite get hold of it, and so they were drowned in the Sound.

"When they had gone on a few days further, the companion said, 'Now we
are soon coming to the castle where she is, the princess of whom you
dreamt, and when we get there, you must go in and tell the king what you
dreamt, and what it is you are seeking.'

"So when they reached it he did what the man told him, and was very
heartily welcomed. He had a room for himself, and another for his
companion, which they were to live in, and when dinner-time drew near,
he was bidden to dine at the king's own board. As soon as ever he set
eyes on the princess he knew her at once, and saw it was she of whom he
had dreamt as his bride. Then he told her his business, and she answered
that she liked him well enough, and would gladly have him; but first he
must undergo three trials. So when they had dined she gave him a pair of
golden scissors, and said,--

"'The first proof is that you must take these scissors and keep them,
and give them to me at mid-day to-morrow. It is not so very great a
trial, I fancy,' she said, and made a face; 'but if you can't stand it,
you lose your life; it is the law, and so you will be drawn and
quartered, and your body will be stuck on stakes, and your head over the
gate, just like those lovers of mine, whose skulls and skeletons you see
outside the king's castle.'

"'That is no such great art,' thought the lad.

"But the princess was so merry and mad, and flirted so much with him,
that he forgot all about the scissors and himself, and so while they
played and sported, she stole the scissors away from him without his
knowing it. When he went up to his room at night, and told how he had
fared, and what she had said to him, and about the scissors she gave him
to keep, the companion said,--

"'Of course you have the scissors safe and sure.'

"Then he searched in all his pockets; but there were no scissors, and
the lad was in a sad way when he found them wanting.

"'Well! well!' said the companion; 'I'll see if I can't get you them
again.'

"With that he went down into the stable, and there stood a big, fat
Billygoat, which belonged to the princess, and it was of that breed that
it could fly many times faster through the air than it could run on
land. So he took the Three-Sister Sword, and gave it a stroke between
the horns, and said,--

"'When rides the princess to see her lover to-night?'

"The Billygoat baaed, and said it dared not say, but when it had another
stroke, it said the princess was coming at eleven o'clock. Then the
companion put on the Three-Sister Hat, and all at once he became
invisible, and so he waited for her. When she came, she took and rubbed
the Billygoat with an ointment which she had in a great horn, and
said,--

"'Away, away, o'er roof tree and steeple, o'er land, o'er sea, o'er
hill, o'er dale, to my true love who awaits me in fell this night.'

"At the very moment that the goat set off, the companion threw himself
on behind, and away they went like a blast through the air. They were
not long on the way, and in a trice they came to a crossfell. There she
knocked, and so the goat passed through the fell to the Troll, who was
her lover.

"'Now, my dear,' she said, 'a new lover is come, whose heart is set on
having me. He is young and handsome but I will have no other than you,'
and so she coaxed and petted the Troll.

"'So I set him a trial, and here are the scissors he was to watch and
keep; now do you keep them,' she said.

"So the two laughed heartily, just as though they had the lad already on
wheel and stake.

"'Yes! yes!' said the Troll; 'I'll keep them safe enough.

And I shall sleep on the bride's white arm,
While ravens round his skeleton swarm.'

"And so he laid the scissors in an iron chest with three locks; but just
as he dropped them into the chest, the companion snapped them up.
Neither of them could see him, for he had on the Three-Sister Hat; and
so the Troll locked up the chest for naught, and he hid the keys he had
in the hollow eye-tooth in which he had the toothache. There it would be
hard work for any one to find them, the Troll thought.

"So when midnight was passed she set off home again. The companion got
up behind the goat, and they lost no time on the way back.

"Next day, about noon, the lad was asked down to the king's board; but
then the princess gave herself such airs, and was so high and mighty,
she would scarce look towards the side where the lad sat. After they had
dined, she dressed her face in holiday garb, and said, as if butter
wouldn't melt in her mouth,--

"'May be you have those scissors which I begged you to keep, yesterday?'

"'Oh, yes, I have;' said the lad, 'and here they are,' and with that he
pulled them out, and drove them into the board, till it jumped again.
The princess could not have been more vexed had he driven the scissors
into her face; but for all that she made herself soft and gentle, and
said,--

"'Since you have kept the scissors so well, it won't be any trouble to
you to keep my golden ball of yarn, and take care you give it me
to-morrow at noon; but if you have lost it, you shall lose your life on
the scaffold. It is the law.'

"The lad thought that an easy thing, so he took and put the golden ball
into his pocket. But she fell a-playing and flirting with him again, so
that he forgot both himself and the golden ball, and while they were at
the height of their games and pranks, she stole it from him, and sent
him off to bed.

"Then when he came up to his bedroom, and told what they had said and
done, his companion asked,--

"'Of course you have the golden ball she gave you?'

"'Yes! yes!' said the lad, and felt in his pocket where he had put it;
but no, there was no ball to be found, and he fell again into such an
ill mood, and knew not which way to turn.

"'Well! well! bear up a bit,' said the companion. 'I'll see if I can't
lay hands on it;' and with that he took the sword and hat and strode off
to a smith, and got twelve pounds of iron welded on to the back of the
sword-blade. Then he went down to the stable, and gave the Billygoat a
stroke between his horns, so that the brute went head over heels, and he
asked,--

"'When rides the princess to see her lover to-night?'

"'At twelve o'clock,' baaed the Billygoat.

"So the companion put on the Three-Sister Hat again, and waited till she
came, tearing along with her horn of ointment, and greased the
Billygoat. Then she said, as she had said the first time,--

"'Away, away, o'er roof-tree and steeple, o'er land, o'er sea, o'er
hill, o'er dale, to my true love who awaits me in the fell this night.'

"In a trice they were off, and the companion threw himself on behind the
Billygoat, and away they went like a blast through the air. In the
twinkling of an eye they came to the Troll's hill; and, when she had
knocked three times, they passed through the rock to the Troll, who was
her lover.

"'Where was it you hid the golden scissors I gave you yesterday, my
darling?' cried out the princess. 'My wooer had it and gave it back to
me.'

"'That was quite impossible,' said the Troll; 'for he had locked it up
in a chest with three locks and hidden the keys in the hollow of his
eye-tooth;' but, when they unlocked the chest, and looked for it, the
Troll had no scissors in his chest.

"So the princess told him how she had given her suitor her golden ball.

"'And here it is,' she said; 'for I took it from him again without his
knowing it. But what shall we hit upon now, since he is master of such
craft!'

"Well, the Troll hardly knew; but, after they had thought a bit, they
made up their minds to light a large fire and burn the golden ball; and
so they would be cocksure that he could not get at it. But, just as she
tossed it into the fire, the companion stood ready and caught it; and
neither of them saw him, for he had on the Three-Sister Hat.

"When the princess had been with the Troll a little while, and it began
to grow towards dawn, she set off home again, and the companion got up
behind her on the goat, and they got back fast and safe.

"Next day, when the lad was bidden down to dinner, the companion gave
him the ball. The princess was even more high and haughty than the day
before, and, after they had dined, she perked up her mouth, and said, in
a dainty voice,--

"'Perhaps it is too much to look for that you should give me back my
golden ball, which I gave you to keep yesterday?'

"'Is it?' said the lad. 'You shall soon have it. Here it is, safe
enough;' and, as he said that, he threw it down on the board so hard,
that it shook again; and, as for the king, he gave a jump high up into
the air.

"The princess got as pale as a corpse, but she soon came to herself
again, and said, in a sweet, small voice,--

"'Well done, well done!' Now he had only one more trial left, and it was
this:

"'If you are so clever as to bring me what I am now thinking of by
dinner-time to-morrow, you shall win me, and have me to wife.'

"That was what she said.

"The lad felt like one doomed to death, for he thought it quite
impossible to know what she was thinking about, and still harder to
bring it to her; and so, when he went up to his bedroom, it was hard
work to comfort him at all. His companion told him to be easy, he would
see if he could not get the right end of the stick this time too, as he
had done twice before. So the lad at last took heart, and lay down to
sleep.

"Meanwhile, the companion went to the smith and got twenty-four pounds
of iron welded on to his sword; and, when that was done, he went down to
the stable and let fly at the Billygoat between the horns with such a
blow, that he went right head over heels against the wall.

"'When rides the princess to her lover to-night?' he asked.

"'At one o'clock,' baaed the Billygoat.

"So, when the hour drew near, the companion stood in the stable with his
Three-Sister Hat on; and, when she had greased the goat, and uttered the
same words that they were to fly through the air to her true love, who
was waiting for her in the fell, off they went again, on the wings of
the wind; and, all the while, the companion sat behind.

"But he was not light-handed this time; for, every now and then, he gave
the princess a slap, so that he almost beat the breath out of her body.

"And when they came to the wall of rock, she knocked at the door, and it
opened, and they passed on into the fell to her lover.

"As soon as she got there, she fell to bewailing, and was very cross,
and said she never knew the air could deal such buffets; she almost
thought, indeed, that some one sat behind, who beat both the Billygoat
and herself; she was sure she was black and blue all over her body, such
a hard flight had she had through the air.

"Then she went on to tell how her lover had brought her the golden ball
too; how it happened, neither she nor the Troll could tell.

"'But now do you know what I have hit upon?'

"No; the Troll did not.

"'Well,' she went on; 'I have told him to bring me what I was then
thinking of by dinner-time to-morrow, and what I thought of was your
head. Do you think he can get that, my darling?' said the princess, and
began to fondle the Troll.

"'No, I don't think he can,' said the Troll. 'He would take his oath he
couldn't;' and then the Troll burst out laughing, and scunnered worse
than any ghost, and both the princess and the Troll thought the lad
would be drawn and quartered, and that the crows would peck out his
eyes, before he could get the Troll's head.

"So when it turned towards dawn, she had to set off home again; but she
was afraid, she said, for she thought there was some one behind her, and
so she was afraid to ride home alone. The Troll must go with her on the
way. Yes; the Troll would go with her, and he led out his Billygoat (for
he had one that matched the princess's), and he smeared it and greased
it between the horns. And when the Troll got up, the companion crept on
behind, and so off they set through the air to the king's grange. But
all the way the companion thrashed the Troll and his Billygoat, and gave
them cut and thrust and thrust and cut with his sword, till they got
weaker and weaker, and at last were well on the way to sink down into
the sea over which they passed. Now the Troll thought the weather was so
wild, he went right home with the princess up to the king's grange, and
stood outside to see that she got home safe and well. But just as she
shut the door behind her, the companion struck off the Troll's head and
ran up with it to the lad's bedroom.

"'Here is what the princess thought of,' said he.

"Well, they were merry and joyful, one may think, and when the lad was
bidden down to dinner, and they had dined, the princess was as lively as
a lark.

"'No doubt you have got what I thought of?' said she.

"'Aye; aye; I have it,' said the lad, and he tore it out from under his
coat, and threw it down on the board with such a thump that the board,
trestles and all, was upset. As for the princess, she was as though she
had been dead and buried; but she could not say that this was not what
she was thinking of, and so now he was to have her to wife as she had
given her word. So they made a bridal feast, and there was drinking and
gladness all over the kingdom.

"But the companion took the lad on one side, and told him that he might
just shut his eyes and sham sleep on the bridal night; but if he held
his life dear, and would listen to him, he wouldn't let a wink come over
them till he had stripped her of her troll-skin, which had been thrown
over her, but he must flog it off her with a rod made of nine new birch
twigs, and he must tear it off her in three tubs of milk: first he was
to scrub her in a tub of year-old whey, and then he was to scour her in
the tub of buttermilk, and lastly, he was to rub her in a tub of new
milk. The birch twigs lay under the bed, and the tubs he had set in the
corner of the room. Everything was ready to his hand. Yes; the lad gave
his word to do as he was bid and to listen to him. So when they got into
the bridal bed at even, the lad shammed as though he had given himself
up to sleep. Then the princess raised herself up on her elbow and looked
at him to see if he slept, and tickled him under the nose; but the lad
slept on still. Then she tugged his hair and his beard; but he lay like
a log, as she thought. After that she drew out a big butcher's knife
from under the bolster, and was just going to hack off his head; but the
lad jumped up, dashed the knife out of her hand, and caught her by the
hair. Then he flogged her with the birchrods, and wore them out upon her
till there was not a twig left. When that was over he tumbled her into
the tub of whey, and then he got to see what sort of beast she was: she
was black as a raven all over her body; but when he scrubbed her well in
the whey, and scoured her with buttermilk, and rubbed her well in new
milk, her troll-skin dropped off her, and she was fair and lovely and
gentle; so lovely she had never looked before.

"Next day the companion said they must set off home. Yes; the lad was
ready enough, and the princess too, for her dower had been long waiting.
In the night the companion fetched to the king's grange all the gold and
silver and precious things which the Troll had left behind him in the
Fell, and when they were ready to start in the morning the whole grange
was so full of silver, and gold, and jewels, there was no walking
without treading on them. That dower was worth more than all the king's
land and realm, and they were at their wits' end to know how to carry it
with them. But the companion knew a way out of every strait. The Troll
left behind him six billygoats, who could all fly through the air. Those
he so laded with silver and gold that they were forced to walk along the
ground, and had no strength to mount aloft and fly, and what the
billygoats could not carry had to stay behind in the king's grange. So
they travelled far, and farther than far, but at last the billygoats got
so footsore and tired they could not go another step. The lad and the
princess knew not what to do; but when the companion saw they could not
get on, he took the whole dower on his back, and the billygoats a-top of
it, and bore it all so far on that there was only half a mile left to
the lad's home.

"Then the companion said: 'Now we must part. I can't stay with you any
longer.'

"But the lad would not part from him, he would not lose him for much or
little. Well, he went with them a quarter of a mile more; but farther he
could not go and when the lad begged and prayed him to go home and stay
with him altogether, or at least as long as they had drunk his
home-coming ale in his father's house, the companion said, 'No. That
could not be. Now he must part, for he heard heaven's bells ringing for
him.' He was the vintner who had stood in the block of ice outside the
church door, whom all spat upon; and he had been his companion and
helped him because he had given all he had to get him peace and rest in
Christian earth.

"'I had leave,' he said, 'to follow you a year, and now the year is
out.'

"When he was gone the lad laid together all his wealth in a safe place,
and went home without any baggage. Then they drank his home-coming ale,
till the news spread far and wide, over seven kingdoms, and when they
had got to the end of the feast, they had carting and carrying all the
winter both with the billygoats and the twelve horses which his father
had before they got all that gold and silver safely carted home."

THE SHOPBOY AND HIS CHEESE, AND PEIK.

When Anders had ended _The Companion_, that strangely wild story, we all
admired it, but he too had his call, and, turning to Karin, he said,

"Now do you tell _The Shopboy and his Cheese_. I know you know it, for I
heard you telling it to the children last winter over the stove."

So Karin began

THE SHOPBOY AND HIS CHEESE.

"Once on a time there was a shopboy who was so well liked by all who
knew him, that they thought him too good to stand behind the counter
with a yard measure, and weights and scales. So they made up their minds
to send him out with a venture to foreign parts, and they let him choose
what he would take out. He chose old cheese, and set off with it to
Turkey. There he sold his cheeses very well; but as he was on his way
home, he met two who had slain a man, and it was not enough that they
had slain him in this life, but they ill-treated his body after he was
dead. This the shopboy could not bear to see, how wickedly they behaved;
so he bought the body of them and got a grave with his money, and buried
it, and then he had spent all he had.

"After a long, long time, he got safe home, and was both illcome and
welcome. Some of those who had helped and fitted him out thought he had
done a good deed; but others were ill-pleased that he should have so
thrown away his money. But for all that they were ready to try if he
could not do better another time, so they let him choose his lading
again. He chose the same freight, and took the same way, and sold his
cheese even better than before. But, as he was on his way home, he met
two who had stolen a king's daughter, and they had put harness on her,
and had got so far as to drive her; they had stripped off her clothes to
the waist, and one went on either side of her and whipped her. The lad's
heart melted at this, for she was a lovely lass. So he asked if they
would sell her. Yes, if he would pay down her weight in silver he might
have her, and there was no long bargaining: he paid all they asked.

"After a long, long time, he got safe home; but those who had fitted him
out were one and all so ill-pleased at his dealing, that they banished
him the land. So he had to set off to England. There he stayed for four
years with his sweetheart, and the way they got their living was by her
weaving ribbons, which she wove so well that he sold two shillings'
worth a-day.

"One day he met two who were foes, and one wished to thrash the other
because he owed him eighteen-pence. That seemed to the lad wrong, and he
paid the debt for him. Another day he met two travellers, who began to
talk with him, and asked if he had anything to sell. 'Nothing but
ribbons,' he said. Well, they would have three shillings' worth, and
asked him where he lived, and fixed a day to come and fetch them; and
when the day came, they came too, and lo! when they came, if one of them
was not the princess's brother, and the other an emperor's son, to whom
she was betrothed. So they got the ribbons for which they had bargained,
and wanted to take her home with them. But she wouldn't go unless they
would let him go with them, and take care of him; for she would not
forsake the man who had freed her, so long as she had breath in her
body. So they had to give way to her if they were to take her at all.
But when they were to go on board ship, the brother and sister went
first into the boat, and when the emperor's son was to get into her, he
shoved her off, and jumped into her himself, and so the lad was left
standing on the shore. The ship lay ready for sea, and they sailed as
soon as ever they came on board. But then up came the man for whom the
lad had paid eighteen-pence, in a boat and put him on board. Then the
princess was so glad, and took a gold ring off her finger and gave it to
him, and made him go down into the cabin where she lay.

"Well! they sailed many days, till they came to a desert island, where
they landed to look for game, and they settled things so that the
brother, and the Norseman who had saved the princess's life, were to go
each on his side of the island, and the emperor's son in the middle, and
when the lad was well gone, so that they could neither see him, nor he
them, they got on board, and he was left to walk about the island alone.
Then he saw there was no help for it but to stay there; and there he
stayed seven years. He got his food from a fruit-bearing tree which he
found, and when the seven years were up, an old, old man came to him and
said,--

"'To-day your true-love is to be married. They have not got a kind word
out of her these seven years, since you parted; but for all that the
emperor's son wants to marry her, for that he knows she is wise and
witty, and for that she is so rich.'

"After that, the man asked if he had not a mind to be at the wedding. So
he said: well! what he said any one can guess, but he saw no way of
getting there. But lo! in a little while there he stood in the palace
where the wedding was to be. Then he wanted to know what kind of man
that was who had brought him thither. He was no man, he said; but a
spirit. He it was whose body he had bought and buried in Turkey.

"After that, he gave him a glass and a bottle, with wine in it, and told
him to send some one in with a message to the cook to come out to him.

"'When he comes, you must first pour out a glass and drink it yourself;
and then another, and give it to the cook; and then you must pour out a
third, and send it to the bride; but first of all you must take the ring
off your finger, and put it into the glass which you send her.'

"So when the cook came in with the glass, they all cried out, 'She
mustn't drink.' But the cook said, 'First he drank, and then I drank, so
she may very safely drink the wine.'

"And when she drank the glass out, she saw the ring that lay at the
bottom, and ran out, and as soon as she got outside she knew him again,
and fell on his neck and kissed him, all shaggy as he was, for you may
fancy, he had neither lather nor razor on his beard for seven years.

"But now the king came after, and wanted to know the meaning of all this
fondling between them. So they were brought into a room, and told the
whole story from first to last. Then the king bade them go and fetch a
barber, and scrape the bristles off him, and trim him; and a tailor with
a new court dress; and then the king went into the bridal hall, and
asked the bridegroom, that emperor's son, what doom should be passed on
one who had robbed a man both of life and honour. He answered,--

"'Such a scoundrel should be first hanged on a gallows and then his body
should be burnt quick.'

"So he was taken at his word and suffered the doom that he uttered over
himself, and the shopboy was wedded to the king's daughter, and lived
both long and luckily.

"After that I was no longer with them, and I don't know how they fared;
but this I know, that he who last told this Tale is alive this very day,
and he is Ole Olsen, of Hitli, in Roldale."

* * * * *

When _The Shopboy and his Cheese_ was over, Anders, who ordered about
his cousins like a Turk, called on Christina for _Peik_; but nothing
could get the story out of her. There was something in it she did not
like. It was not a girl's story. He had better tell it himself.

"Well, I will," said Anders; "I'm sure there's no harm in it; but judge
for yourselves."

PEIK.

"Once on a time there was a man, and he had a wife; they had a son and a
daughter who were twins, and they were so like, no one could tell the
one from the other by anything else than their clothing. The boy they
called Peik. He was of little good while his father and mother lived,
for he had no mood to do aught else than to befool folk, and he was so
full of tricks and pranks that no one could be at peace for him; but
when they were dead it got worse and worse, he wouldn't turn his hand to
anything; all he would do was to squander what they left behind them,
and as for his neighbours he fell out with all of them. His sister
toiled and moiled all she could, but it helped little; so at last she
said to him how silly this was that he would do naught for her house,
and ended by asking him,

"'What shall we have to live on when you have wasted everything?'

"'Oh, I'll go out and befool somebody,' said Peik.

"'Yes, Peik, I'll be bound you'll do that soon enough,' said his sister.

"'Well, I'll try,' said Peik.

"So at last they had nothing more, for there was an end of everything;
and Peik trotted off, and walked and walked till he came to the king's
grange. There stood the King in the porch, and as soon as he set eyes on
the lad, he said,--

"'Whither away to-day, Peik?'

"'Oh, I was going out to see if I could befool anybody,' said Peik.

"'Can't you befool me, now?' said the King.

"'No, I'm sure I can't,' said Peik, 'for I've forgotten my fooling rods
at home.'

"'Can't you go and fetch them?' said the King, 'for I should be very
glad to see if you are such a trickster as folks say.'

"'I've no strength to walk,' said Peik.

"'I'll lend you a horse and saddle,' said the King.

"'But I can't ride either,' said Peik.

"'Then we'll lift you up,' said the King, 'then you'll be able to stick
on.'

"Well, Peik stood and clawed and scratched his head, as though he would
pull the hair off, and let them lift him up into the saddle, and there
he sat swinging this side and that so long as the King could see him,
and the King laughed till the tears came into his eyes, for such a
tailor on horseback he had never before seen. But when Peik was come
well into the wood behind the hill, so that he was out of the King's
sight, he sat as though he were nailed to the horse, and off he rode as
though he had stolen both steed and bridle, and when he got to the town,
he sold both horse and saddle.

"All the while the King walked up and down, and loitered and waited for
Peik to come tottering back again with his fooling rods; and every now
and then he laughed when he called to mind how wretched he looked as he
sat swinging about on the horse like a sack of corn, not knowing on
which side to fall off; but this lasted for seven lengths and seven
breadths, and no Peik came, and so at last the King saw that he was
fooled and cheated out of his horse and saddle, even though Peik had not
his fooling rods with him. And so there was another story, for the King
got wroth, and was all for setting off to kill Peik.

"But Peik had found out the day he was coming, and told his sister she
must put on the big boiler with a drop of water in it. But just as the
King came in Peik dragged the boiler off the fire and ran off with it to
the chopping-block, and so boiled the porridge on the block.

"The King wondered at that, and wondered on and on so much that he clean
forgot what brought him there.

"'What do you want for that pot?' said he.

"'I can't spare it,' said Peik.

"'Why not?' said the King, 'I'll pay what you ask.'

"'No, no!' said Peik. 'It saves me time and money, woodhire and
choppinghire, carting and carrying.'

"'Never mind,' said the King, 'I'll give you a hundred dollars. It's
true you've fooled me out of a horse and saddle, and bridle besides, but
all that shall go for nothing if I can only get the pot.'

"'Well! if you must have it you must,' said Peik.

"When the King got home he asked guests and made a feast, but the meat
was to be boiled in the new pot, and so he took it up and set it in the
middle of the floor. The guests thought the King had lost his wits, and
went about elbowing one another, and laughing at him. But he walked
round and round the pot, and cackled and chattered, saying all in a
breath--

"'Well, well! bide a bit, bide a bit! 'twill boil in a minute.'

"But there was no boiling. So he saw that Peik had been out again with
his fooling rods and cheated him, and now he would set off at once and
slay him.

"When the King came Peik stood out by the barn door. 'Wouldn't it boil?'
he asked.

"'No! it would not,' said the King; 'but now you shall smart for it,'
and so he was just going to unsheath his knife.

"'I can well believe that,' said Peik, 'for you did not take the block
too.'

"'I wish I thought,' said the King, 'you weren't telling me a pack of
lies.'

"'I tell you it's all because of the block it stands on; it won't boil
without it,' said Peik.

"'Well; what did he want for it?' It was well worth three hundred
dollars; but for the King's sake it should go for two. So he got the
block and travelled home with it, and bade guests again, and made a
feast, and set the pot on the chopping-block in the middle of the room.
The guests thought he was both daft and mad, and they went about making
game of him, while he cackled and chattered round the pot, calling out
'Bide a bit, now it boils! now it boils in a trice.'

"But it wouldn't boil a bit more on the block than on the bare floor. So
he saw again that Peik had been out with his fooling rods this time too.
Then he fell a-tearing his hair, and swore he would set off at once and
slay him. He wouldn't spare him this time, whether he put a good or a
bad face on it.

"But Peik had taken steps to meet him again. He slaughtered a wether and
caught the blood in the bladder, and stuffed it into his sister's bosom,
and told her what to say and do.

"'Where's Peik!' screeched out the King. He was in such a rage that his
tongue faltered.

"'He is so poorly that he can't stir hand or foot,' she said, 'and now
he's trying to get a nap.'

"'Wake him up,' said the King.

"'Nay, I daren't; he is so hasty,' said the sister.

"'Well! I'm hastier still,' said the King, 'and if you don't wake him, I
will,' and with that he tapped his side where his knife hung.

"Well! she would go and wake him; but Peik turned hastily in his bed,
drew out a little knife, and ripped open the bladder in her bosom, so
that a stream of blood gushed out, and down she fell on the floor, as
though she were dead.

"'What a dare devil you are, Peik,' said the King, 'if you haven't
stabbed your sister to death, and here I stood by and saw it with my own
eyes.'

"'There's no risk with her body so long as there's breath in my
nostrils;' and with that he pulled out a ramshorn, and began to toot
upon it, and when he had tooted a bridal tune, he put the end to her
body, and blew life into her again, and up she rose as though there was
naught the matter with her.

"'Bless me, Peik! can you kill folk and blow life into them again? Can
you do that?' said the King.

"'Why!' said Peik, 'how could I get on at all if I couldn't? I'm always
killing everyone I come near; don't you know I'm very hasty.'

"'So am I hot-tempered,' said the King, 'and that horn I must have; I'll
give you a hundred dollars for it, and besides I'll forgive you for
cheating me out of my horse, and for fooling me about the pot and the
block, and all else.'

"Peik was very loth to part with it, but for his sake he would let him
have it, and so the King went off home with it, and he had hardly got
back before he must try it. So he fell a-wrangling and quarrelling with
the Queen and his eldest daughter, and they paid him back in the same
coin; but before they knew a word about it he whipped out his knife and
cut their throats, so that they fell down stone dead, and everyone else
ran out of the room, they were so afraid.

"The King walked and paced about the floor for a while, and kept
chattering that there was no harm done, so long as there was breath in
him, and a pack of such stuff which had flowed out of Peik's mouth, and
then he pulled out the horn and began to blow 'Toot-i-too, Toot-i-too,'
but though he blew and tooted as hard as he could all that day and the
next too, he couldn't blow life into them again. Dead they were, and
dead they stayed, both the Queen and his daughter, and he was forced to
buy graves for them in the churchyard, and to spend money on their
funeral ale into the bargain.

"So he must and would go and cut Peik off; but Peik had his spies out,
and knew when the King was coming, and then he said to his sister,--

"'Now you must change clothes with me and set off. If you will do that
you may have all we have got.'

"Well! she changed clothes with him, and packed up and started off as
fast as she could; but Peik sat all alone in his sister's clothes.

"'Where is that Peik?' said the King, as he came in a towering rage
through the door.

"'He has run away,' said Peik.

"'Ah! had he been at home,' said the King, 'I'd have slain him on the
spot. It's no good sparing the life of such a rogue.'

"'Yes! he knew by his spies that your Majesty was coming, and was going
to take his life for his wicked tricks; but he has left me all alone
without a morsel of bread or a penny in my purse,' said Peik, who made
himself as soft and mealy-mouthed as a young lady.

"'Come along then to the King's Grange, and you shall have enough to
live on. There's no good sitting here and starving in this cabin by
yourself,' said the King.

"Yes! he was glad to do that; so the King took him with him, and had him
taught everything, and treated him as his own daughter, and it was
almost as if the King had his three daughters again, for Miss Peik sewed
and stitched, and sung and played with the others, and was with them
early and late.

"After a time a king's son came to look for a wife.

"'Yes! I have three daughters,' said the King; 'it rests with you which
you will have?'

"So he got leave to go up to their bower to make friends with them, and
the end was that he liked Miss Peik best, and threw a silk kerchief into
her lap as a love token. So they set to work to get ready the bridal
feast, and in a little while his kinsfolk came, and the King's men, and
they all fell to feasting and drinking on the bridal eve; but as night
was falling Miss Peik daren't stay longer, but ran away from the King's
Grange, out into the wide world, and the bride was lost; but there was
worse behind, for just then both the other princesses felt very queer,
and all at once two little princes came travelling into the world, and
folk had to break up and go home just as the fun and feasting were
highest.

"The King got both wroth and sorrowful, and began to wonder if it wasn't
Peik again that had a finger in this pie.

"So he mounted his horse and rode out, for he thought it dull work
staying at home; but when he got out among the ploughed fields, there
sat Peik on a stone playing on a Jews' harp.

"'What! are you sitting there, Peik?' said the King.

"'Here I sit, sure enough,' said Peik. 'Where else should I sit?"

"'Now you have cheated me foully, time after time,' said the King; 'but
now you must come along home with me, and I'll kill you.'

"'Well, well,' said Peik, 'if it can't be helped it can't; I suppose I
must go along with you.'

"When they got home to the King's Grange, they got ready a cask which
Peik was to be put in, and when it was ready they carted it up to a high
fell; there he was to lie three days thinking on all the evil he had
done, then they were to roll him down the fell into the firth.

"The third day a rich man passed by, but Peik sat inside the cask and
sang,--

'To heaven's bliss and Paradise,
To heaven's bliss and Paradise.

"'I'd sooner far stay here and not be made an angel.'

"When the man heard that, he asked what he would take to change places
with him.

"'It ought to be a good sum,' said Peik, 'for there wasn't a coach ready
to start for Paradise every day.'

"So the man said he would give all he had, and so he knocked out the
head of the cask and crept into it instead of Peik.

"'A happy journey,' said the King, when he came to roll him down; 'now
you'll go faster to the firth than if you were in a sledge with
reindeer; and now it's all over with you and your fooling rods.'

"Before the cask was half-way down the fell, there wasn't a whole stave
of it left, nor a limb of him who was inside. But when the King came
back to the Grange, Peik was there before him, and sat in the courtyard
playing on the Jews' harp.

"'What! you sitting here, you Peik?'

"'Yes! here I sit, sure enough; where else should I sit?' said Peik.
'Maybe I can get house-room here for all my horses and sheep and money.'

"'But whither was it that I rolled you that you got all this wealth?'
asked the King.

"'Oh, you rolled me into the firth,' said Peik, 'and when I got to the
bottom there was more than enough and to spare, both of horses and sheep
and of gold and silver. The cattle went about in great flocks, and the
gold and silver lay in large heaps as big as houses.'

"'What will you take to roll me down the same way?' asked the King.

"'Oh,' said Peik, 'it costs little or nothing to do it. Besides, you
took nothing from me, and so I'll take nothing from you either.'

"So he stuffed the King into a cask and rolled him over, and when he had
given him a ride down to the firth for nothing, he went home to the
King's Grange. Then he began to hold his bridal feast with the youngest
princess, and afterwards he ruled both land and realm, but he kept his
fooling rods to himself, and kept them so well that nothing was ever
afterwards heard of Peik and his tricks, but only of OURSELF THE KING."

KARIN'S THREE STORIES.

"Now," said Karin, "as you have told _Peik_, which I did not want to
tell, I'll tell you three stories all of a row, _Death and the Doctor_,
_The Way of the World_, and _The Pancake_." So she began with the first.

DEATH AND THE DOCTOR.

'Once on a time there was a lad, who had lived as a servant a long time
with a man of the North Country. This man was a master at ale-brewing;
it was so out-of-the-way good the like of it was not to be found. So,
when the lad was to leave his place and the man was to pay him the wages
he had earned, he would take no other pay than a keg of yule-ale. Well!
he got it and set off with it, and he carried it both far and long, but
the longer he carried the keg the heavier it got, and so he began to
look about to see if anyone were coming with whom he might have a drink,
that the ale might lessen, and the keg lighten. And after a long, long
time, he met an old man with a big beard.

"'Good-day,' said the man.

"'Good-day to you,' said the lad.

"'Whither away?' asked the man.

"'I'm looking after some one to drink with, and get my keg lightened,'
said the lad.

"'Can't you drink as well with me as with anyone else?' said the man. 'I
have fared both far and wide, and I am both tired and thirsty.'

"'Well! why shouldn't I?' said the lad; 'but tell me, whence do you
come, and what sort of man are you?'

"'I am "Our Lord," and come from Heaven,' said the man.

"'Thee will I not drink with,' said the lad; 'for thou makest such
distinction between persons here in the world, and sharest rights so
unevenly that some get so rich and some so poor. No! with thee I will
not drink,' and as he said this he trotted off with his keg again.

"So, when he had gone a bit farther the keg grew too heavy again; he
thought he never could carry it any longer unless some one came with
whom he might drink, and so lessen the ale in the keg. Yes! he met an
ugly scrawny man who came along fast and furious.

"'Good-day,' said the man.

"'Good-day to you,' said the lad.

"'Whither away?' asked the man.

"'Oh! I'm looking for some one to drink with, and get my keg lightened,'
said the lad.

"'Can't you drink with me as well as with any one else?' said the man;
'I have fared both far and wide, and I am tired and thirsty.'

"'Well! why not?' said the lad; 'but who are you, and whence do you
come?'

"'Who am I? I am the De'il, and I come from Hell; that's where I come
from,' said the man.

"'No!' said the lad; 'thou only pinest and plaguest poor folk, and if
there is any unhappiness a-stir, they always say it is thy fault. Thee I
will not drink with.'

"So he went far and farther than far again with his ale-keg on his back,
till he thought it grew so heavy there was no carrying it any farther.
He began to look round again if any one were coming with whom he could
drink and lighten his keg. So after a long, long time, another man came,
and he was so dry and lean 'twas a wonder his bones hung together.

"'Good-day,' said the man.

"'Good-day to you,' said the lad.

"'Whither away?' asked the man.

"'Oh, I was only looking about to see if I could find some one to drink
with, that my keg might be lightened a little, it is so heavy to carry.'

"'Can't you drink as well with me as with anyone else?' said the man.

"'Yes; why not?' said the lad. 'But what sort of man are you?'

"'They call me Death,' said the man.

"'The very man for my money,' said the lad. 'Thee I am glad to drink
with,' and as he said this he put down his keg, and began to tap the ale
into a bowl. 'Thou art an honest, trustworthy man, for thou treatest all
alike, both rich and poor.'

"So he drank his health, and Death drank his health, and Death said he
had never tasted such drink, and as the lad was fond of him, they drank
bowl and bowl about, till the ale was lessened, and the keg grew light.

"At last, Death said, 'I have never known drink which smacked better, or
did me so much good as this ale that you have given me, and I scarce
know what to give you in return.' But after he had thought a while, he
said the keg should never get empty, however much they drank out of it,
and the ale that was in it should become a healing drink, by which the
lad could make the sick whole again better than any doctor. And he also
said that when the lad came into the sick man's room Death would always
be there, and show himself to him, and it should be to him for a sure
token if he saw Death at the foot of the bed that he could cure the sick
with a draught from the keg; but if he sate by the pillow, there was no
healing nor medicine, for then the sick belonged to Death.

"Well, the lad soon grew famous, and was called in far and near, and he
helped many to health again, who had been given over. When he came in
and saw how Death sate by the sick man's bed, he foretold either life or
death, and his foretelling was never wrong. He got both a rich and
powerful man, and at last he was called in to a king's daughter far, far
away in the world. She was so dangerously ill no doctor thought he could
do her any good, and so they promised him all that he cared either to
ask or have if he would only save her life.

"Now, when he came into the princess's room, there sate Death at her
pillow; but as he sate he dozed and nodded, and while he did this she
felt herself better.

"'Now, life or death is at stake,' said the doctor; 'and I fear, from
what I see, there is no hope.'

"But they said he _must_ save her, if it cost land and realm. So he
looked at Death, and while he sate there and dozed again, he made a sign
to the servants to turn the bed round so quickly that Death was left
sitting at the foot, and at the very moment they turned the bed, the
doctor gave her the draught, and her life was saved.

"'Now you have cheated me,' said Death, 'and we are quits.'

"'I was forced to do it,' said the doctor, 'unless I wished to lose land
and realm.'

"'That shan't help you much,' said Death; 'your time is up, for now you
belong to me.'

"'Well,' said the lad, 'what must be, must be; but you'll let me have
time to read the Lord's Prayer first.'

"Yes, he might have leave to do that; but he took very good care not to
read the Lord's Prayer; everything else he read; but the Lord's Prayer
never crossed his lips, and at last he thought he had cheated Death for
good and all. But when Death thought he had really waited too long, he
went to the lad's house one night, and hung up a great tablet with the
Lord's Prayer painted on it over against his bed. So when the lad woke
in the morning he began to read the tablet, and did not quite see what
he was about till he came to AMEN; but then it was just too late, and
Death had him."

THE WAY OF THE WORLD.

"Once on a time, there was a man who went into the wood to cut
hop-poles, but he could find no trees so long and straight, and slender,
as he wanted, till he came high up under a great heap of stones. There
he heard groans and moans as though some one were at Death's door. So he
went up to see who it was that needed help, and then he heard that the
noise came from under a great flat stone which lay upon the heap. It was
so heavy it would have taken many a man to lift it. But the man went
down again into the wood and cut down a tree, which he turned into a
lever, and with that he tilted up the stone, and lo! out from under it
crawled a Dragon, and made at the man to swallow him up. But the man
said he had saved the Dragon's life, and it was shameful thanklessness
in him to want to eat him up.

"'May be,' said the Dragon; 'but you might very well know I must be
starved when I have been here hundreds of years and never tasted meat.
Besides, it's the way of the world,--that's how it pays its debts.'

"The man pleaded his cause stoutly, and begged prettily for his life;
and at last they agreed to take the first living thing that came for a
daysman, and if his doom went the other way the man should not lose his
life, but if he said the same as the Dragon, the Dragon should eat the
man.

"The first thing that came was an old hound, who ran along the road down
below under the hillside. Him they spoke to, and begged him to be judge.

"'God knows,' said the hound, 'I have served my master truly ever since
I was a little whelp. I have watched and watched many and many a night
through, while he lay warm asleep on his ear, and I have saved house and
home from fire and thieves more than once; but now I can neither see nor
hear any more, and he wants to shoot me. And so I must run away, and
slink from house to house, and beg for my living till I die of hunger.
No! it's the way of the world,' said the hound; 'that's how it pays its
debts.'

"'Now I am coming to eat you up,' said the Dragon, and tried to swallow
the man again. But the man begged and prayed hard for his life, till
they agreed to take the next comer for a judge; and if he said the same
as the Dragon and the Hound, the Dragon was to eat him, and get a meal
of man's meat; but if he did not say so, the man was to get off with his
life.

"So there came an old horse limping down along the road which ran under
the hill. Him they called out to come and settle the dispute. Yes; he
was quite ready to do that.

"'Now, I have served my master,' said the horse, 'as long as I could
draw or carry. I have slaved and striven for him till the sweat trickled
from every hair, and I have worked till I have grown lame, and halt, and
worn out with toil and age; now I am fit for nothing. I am not worth my
food, and so I am to have a bullet through me, he says. Nay! nay! It's
the way of the world. That's how the world pays its debts.'

"'Well, now I'm coming to eat you,' said the Dragon, who gaped wide, and
wanted to swallow the man. But he begged again hard for his life.

"But the Dragon said he must have a mouthful of man's meat; he was so
hungry, he couldn't bear it any longer.

"'See, yonder comes one who looks as if he was sent to be a judge
between us,' said the man, as he pointed to Reynard the fox, who came
stealing between the stones of the heap.

"'All good things are three,' said the man; 'let me ask him, too, and if
he gives doom like the others, eat me up on the spot.'

"'Very well,' said the Dragon. He, too, had heard that all good things
were three, and so it should be a bargain. So the man talked to the fox
as he had talked to the others.

"'Yes, yes,' said Reynard; 'I see how it all is;' but as he said this he
took the man a little on one side.

"'What will you give me if I free you from the Dragon?' he whispered
into the man's ear.

"'You shall be free to come to my house, and to be lord and master over
my hens and geese, every Thursday night,' said the man.

"'Well, my dear Dragon,' said Reynard, 'this is a very hard nut to
crack. I can't get it into my head how you, who are so big and mighty a
beast, could find room to lie under yon stone.'

"'Can't you,' said the Dragon; 'well, I lay under the hillside, and
sunned myself, and down came a landslip, and hurled the stone over me.'

"'All very likely, I dare say,' said Reynard; 'but still I can't
understand it, and what's more, I won't believe it till I see it.'

"So the man said they had better prove it, and the Dragon crawled down
into the hole again; but in the twinkling of an eye they whipped out the
lever, and down the stone crashed again on the Dragon.

"'Lie now there till Doomsday,' said the fox. 'You would eat the man,
would you, who saved your life?'

"The Dragon groaned, and moaned, and begged hard to come out; but the
two went their way, and left him alone.

"The very first Thursday night Reynard came to be lord and master over
the hen-roost, and hid himself behind a great pile of wood hard by. When
the maid went to feed the fowls, in stole Reynard. She neither saw nor
heard anything of him; but her back was scarce turned before he had
sucked blood enough for a week, and stuffed himself so that he couldn't
stir. So when she came again in the morning, there Reynard lay and
snored, and slept in the morning sun, with all four legs stretched
straight; and he was as sleek and round as a German sausage.

"Away ran the lassie for the goody, and she came, and all the lassies
with her, with sticks and brooms to beat Reynard; and, to tell the
truth, they nearly banged the life out of him; but, just as it was
almost all over with him, and he thought his last hour was come, he
found a hole in the floor, and so he crept out, and limped and hobbled
off to the wood.

"'Oh, oh,' said Reynard; 'how true it is. 'Tis the way of the world; and
this is how it pays its debts.'"

THE PANCAKE.

"Once on a time there was a goody who had seven hungry bairns, and she
was frying a pancake for them. It was a sweet-milk pancake, and there it
lay in the pan bubbling and frizzling so thick and good, it was a sight
for sore eyes to look at. And the bairns stood round about, and the
goodman sat by and looked on.

"'Oh, give me a bit of pancake, mother, dear; I am so hungry,' said one
bairn.

"'Oh, darling mother,' said the second.

"'Oh, darling, good mother,' said the third.

"'Oh, darling, good, nice mother,' said the fourth.

"'Oh, darling, pretty, good, nice mother,' said the fifth.

"'Oh, darling, pretty, good, nice, clever mother,' said the sixth.

"'Oh, darling, pretty, good, nice, clever, sweet mother,' said the
seventh.

"So they begged for the pancake all round, the one more prettily than
the other; for they were so hungry and so good.

"'Yes, yes, bairns, only bide a bit till it turns itself,'--she ought to
have said 'till I can get it turned,'--'and then you shall all have
some--a lovely sweet-milk pancake; only look how fat and happy it lies
there.'

"When the pancake heard that, it got afraid, and in a trice it turned
itself all of itself, and tried to jump out of the pan; but it fell back
into it again t'other side up, and so when it had been fried a little on
the other side too, till it got firmer in its flesh, it sprang out on
the floor, and rolled off like a wheel through the door and down the
hill.

"'Holloa! Stop, pancake!' and away went the goody after it, with the
frying-pan in one hand, and the ladle in the other, as fast as she
could, and her bairns behind her, while the goodman limped after them
last of all.

"'Hi! won't you stop? Seize it. Stop, pancake, they all screamed out,
one after the other, and tried to catch it on the run and hold it; but
the pancake rolled on and on, and in the twinkling of an eye it was so
far ahead that they couldn't see it, for the pancake was faster on its
feet than any of them.

"So when it had rolled awhile it met a man.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the man.

"'God bless you, Manny Panny!' said the pancake.

"'Dear pancake,' said the man, 'don't roll so fast; stop a little and
let me eat you.'

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, I may well slip through your fingers, Manny Panny,'
said the pancake, and rolled on and on till it met a hen.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the hen.

"'The same to you, Henny Penny,' said the pancake.

"'Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast, bide a bit and let me eat you up,'
said the hen.

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, and Manny Panny, I may well slip through your claws,
Henny Penny,' said the pancake, and so it rolled on like a wheel down
the road.

"Just then it met a cock.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the cock.

"'The same to you, Cocky Locky,' said the pancake.

"'Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast, but bide a bit and let me eat you
up.'

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, and to Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, I may well slip
through your claws, Cocky Locky,' said the pancake, and off it set
rolling away as fast as it could; and when it had rolled a long way it
met a duck.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the duck.

"'The same to you, Ducky Lucky.'

"'Pancake, dear, don't roll away so fast; bide a bit and let me eat you
up.'

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, and Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky, I
may well slip through your fingers, Ducky Lucky,' said the pancake, and
with that it took to rolling and rolling faster than ever; and when it
had rolled a long, long while, it met a goose.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the goose.

"'The same to you, Goosey Poosey.'

"'Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast; bide a bit and let me eat you up.'

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, and Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky,
and Ducky Lucky, I can well slip through your feet, Goosey Poosey,' said
the pancake, and off it rolled.

"So when it had rolled a long, long way farther, it met a gander.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the gander.

"'The same to you, Gander Pander,' said the pancake.

"'Pancake, dear, don't roll so fast: bide a bit and let me eat you up.'

"'When I have given the slip to Goody Poody, and the goodman, and seven
squalling children, and Manny Panny, and Henny Penny, and Cocky Locky,
and Ducky Lucky, and Goosey Poosey, I may well slip through your feet,
Gander Pander,' said the pancake, which rolled off as fast as ever.

"So when it had rolled a long, long time, it met a pig.

"'Good-day, pancake,' said the pig.

"'The same to you, Piggy Wiggy,' said the pancake, which, without a word
more, began to roll and roll like mad.

"'Nay, nay,' said the pig, 'you needn't be in such a hurry; we two can
then go side by side and see one another over the wood; they say it is
not too safe in there.'

"The pancake thought there might be something in that, and so they kept
company. But when they had gone awhile, they came to a brook. As for
piggy, he was so fat he swam safe across, it was nothing to him; but the
poor pancake couldn't get over.

"'Seat yourself on my snout,' said the pig, 'and I'll carry you over.'

"So the pancake did that.

"'Ouf, ouf,' said the pig, and swallowed the pancake at one gulp; and
then, as the poor pancake could go no farther, why--this story can go no
farther either."

PETER'S BEAST STORIES.

"Now," said Peter, "I'll tell you another lot of stories right out of
the wood, as fresh as a spruce fir or a juniper. Here they are:--

PORK AND HONEY.

"At dawn the other day, when Bruin came tramping over the bog with a fat
pig, Reynard sat up on a stone by the moorside.

"'Good day, grandsire,' said the fox, 'what's that so nice that you have
there?'

"'Pork,' said Bruin.

"'Well! I have got a dainty bit, too,' said Reynard.

"'What is that?' asked the bear.

"'The biggest wild bees-comb I ever saw in my life,' said Reynard.

"'Indeed, you don't say so,' said Bruin, who grinned and licked his
lips. He thought it would be so nice to taste a little honey. At last he
said, 'Shall we swop our fare?'

"'Nay, nay!' said Reynard, 'I can't do that.'

"The end was that they made a bet, and agreed to name three trees. If
the fox could say them off faster than the bear he was to have leave to
take one bite off the bacon; but if the bear could say them faster he
was to have leave to take one sup out of the comb. Greedy Bruin thought
he was sure to sup out all the honey at one breath.

"'Well,' said Reynard, 'it's all fair and right no doubt, but all I say
is, if I win, you shall be bound "to tear" off the bristles where I am
to bite.'

"'Of course,' said Bruin, 'I'll help you as you can't help yourself.'

"So they were to begin and name the trees.

"'FIR, SCOTCH Fir, SPRUCE,' growled out Bruin, for he was gruff in his
tongue, that he was. But for all that he only named two trees, for Fir
and Scotch Fir are both the same.

"'_Ash_, _Aspen_, _Oak_,' screamed Reynard, so that the wood rang again!

"So he had won the wager, and down he ran and took the heart out of the
pig at one bite, and was just running off with it. But Bruin was angry
because he had taken the best bit out of the whole pig, and so he laid
hold of his tail and held him fast.

"'Stop a bit, stop a bit,' he said, and was wild with rage.

"'Never mind,' said the fox, 'it's all right; let me go, grandsire, and
I'll give you a taste of my honey.'

"When Bruin heard that, he let go his hold, and away went Reynard after
the honey.

"'Here, on this honeycomb,' said Reynard, 'lies a leaf, and under this
leaf is a hole, and that hole you are to suck.'

"As he said this he held up the comb under the Bear's nose, took off the
leaf, jumped up on a stone, and began to gibber and laugh, for there was
neither honey nor honeycomb, but a wasp's nest, as big as a man's head,
full of wasps, and out swarmed the wasps and settled on Bruin's head,
and stung him in his eyes and ears, and mouth and snout. And he had such
hard work to rid himself of them that he had no time to think of
Reynard.

"And that's why, ever since that day, Bruin is so afraid of wasps."

THE HARE AND THE HEIRESS.

"Once on a time there was a hare, who was frisking up and down under the
greenwood tree.

"'Oh! hurrah! hip, hip, hurrah!' he cried, and leapt and sprang, and all
at once he threw a somersault, and stood upon his hind legs. Just then a
fox came slouching by.

"'Good-day, good-day,' said the hare; 'I'm so merry to-day, for you must
know I was married this morning.'

"'Lucky fellow you,' said the fox.

"'Ah, no! not so lucky after all,' said the hare, 'for she was very
heavy handed, and it was an old witch I got to wife.

"'Then you were an unlucky fellow,' said the fox.

"'Oh, not so unlucky either,' said the hare, 'for she was an heiress.
She had a cottage of her own.'

"'Then you were lucky after all,' said the fox.

"'No, no! not so lucky either,' said the hare, 'for the cottage caught
fire and was burnt, and all we had with it.'

"'That I call downright unlucky,' said the fox.

"'Oh, no; not so very unlucky after all,' said the hare, 'for my witch
of a wife was burnt along with her cottage.'"

SLIP ROOT, CATCH REYNARD'S FOOT.

"Once on a time there was a bear, who sat on a hillside in the sun and
slept. Just then Reynard came slouching by and caught sight of him.

"'There you sit taking your ease, grandsire,' said the fox. 'Now see if
I don't play you a trick.' So he went and caught three field mice and
laid them on a stump close under Bruin's nose, and then he bawled out,
into his ear, 'Bo! Bruin, here's Peter the Hunter, just behind this
stump;' and as he bawled this out he ran off through the wood as fast as
ever he could.

"Bruin woke up with a start, and when he saw the three little mice, he
was as mad as a March hare, and was going to lift up his paw and crush
them, for he thought it was they who had bellowed in his ear.

"But just as he lifted it he caught sight of Reynard's tail among the
bushes by the woodside, and away he set after him, so that the underwood
crackled as he went, and, to tell the truth, Bruin was so close upon
Reynard, that he caught hold of his off-hind foot just as he was
crawling into an earth under a pine-root. So there was Reynard in a
pinch, but for all that he had his wits about him, for he screeched out,
'SLIP THE PINE-ROOT AND CATCH REYNARD'S FOOT,' and so the silly bear let
his foot slip and laid hold of the root instead. But by that time
Reynard was safe inside the earth, and called out--

"'I cheated you that time, too, didn't I, grandsire!'

"'Out of sight isn't out of mind,' growled Bruin down the earth, and was
wild with rage."

BRUIN GOODFELLOW.

"Once on a time there was a husbandman who travelled ever so far up to
the Fells to fetch a load of leaves for litter for his cattle in winter.
So when he got to where the litter lay he backed the sledge close up to
the heap, and began to roll down the leaves on to the sledge. But under
the heap lay a bear who had made his winter lair there, and when he felt
the man trampling about he jumped out right down on to the sledge.

"As soon as the horse got wind of Bruin, he was afraid, and ran off as
though he had stolen both bear and sledge, and he went back faster by
many times than he had come up.

"Bruin, they say, is a brave fellow, but even he was not quite pleased
with his drive this time. So there he sat, holding fast, as well as he
could, and he glared and grinned on all sides, and he thought of
throwing himself off, but he was not used to sledge travelling, and so
he made up his mind to sit still where he was.

"So when he had driven a good bit, he met a pedlar.

"'Whither in heaven's name is the sheriff bound to-day? He has surely
little time, and a long way; he drives so fast.'

"But Bruin said never a word, for all he could do was to stick fast.

"A little further on a beggar-woman met him. She nodded to him and
greeted him, and begged for a penny, in God's name. But Bruin said never
a word, but stuck fast and drove on faster than ever.

"So when he had gone a bit further, Reynard the fox met him.

"'Ho! ho!' said Reynard, 'are you out taking a drive. Stop a bit, and
let me get up behind and be your post-boy.'

"But still Bruin said never a word, but held on like grim death, and
drove on as fast as the horse could lay legs to the ground.

"'Well, well,' screamed Reynard, after him, 'if you won't take me with
you I'll spae your fortune; and that is, though you drive like a
dare-devil to-day, you'll be hanging up to-morrow with the hide off your
back.'

"But Bruin never heard a word that Reynard said. On and on he drove just
as fast; but when the horse got to the farm, he galloped into the open
stable door at full speed, so that he tore off both sledge and harness,
and as for poor Bruin, he knocked his skull against the lintel, and
there he lay dead on the spot.

"All this time the man knew nothing of what had happened. He rolled down
bundle after bundle of leaves, and when he thought he had enough to load
his sledge, and went down to bind on the bundles, he could find neither
horse nor sledge.

"So he had to tramp along the road to find his horse again, and, after a
while, he met the pedlar.

"'Have you met my horse and sledge?' he asked.

"'No,' said the pedlar; 'but lower down along the road I met the
sheriff; he drove so fast, he was surely going to lay some one by the
heels.'

"A while after he met the beggar-woman.

"'Have you seen my horse and sledge?' said the man.

"'No,' said the beggar-woman, 'but I met the parson lower down yonder;
he was surely going to a parish meeting, he drove so fast, and he had a
borrowed horse.'

"A while after, the man met the fox.

"'Have you seen my horse and sledge?'

"'Yes! I have,' said the fox, 'and Bruin Goodfellow sat on it and drove
just as though he had stolen both horse and harness.'

"'De'il take him,' said the man, 'I'll be bound he'll drive my horse to
death.'

"'If he does, flay him,' said Reynard, 'and roast him before the fire!
But if you get your horse again you may give me a lift over the Fell,
for I can ride well, and besides, I have a fancy to see how it feels
when one has four legs before one.'

"'What will you give for the lift?' said the man.

"'You can have what you like,' said Reynard; 'either wet or dry. You may
be sure you'll always get more out of me than out of Bruin Goodfellow,
for he is a rough carle to pay off when he takes a fancy to riding and
hangs on a horse's back.'

"'Well! you shall have a lift over the Fell,' said the man, 'if you will
only meet me at this spot to-morrow.'

"But he knew that Reynard was only playing off some of his tricks upon
him, and so he took with him a loaded gun on the sledge, and when
Reynard came, thinking to get a lift for nothing, he got, instead, a
charge of shot in his body, and so the husbandman flayed the coat off
him too, and then he had gotten both Bruin's hide and Reynard's skin."

BRUIN AND REYNARD PARTNERS.

"Once on a time Bruin and Reynard were to own a field in common. They
had a little clearing up in the wood, and the first year they sowed rye.

"'Now we must share the crop as is fair and right,' said Reynard. 'If
you like to have the root, I'll take the top.'

"Yes, Bruin was ready to do that; but when they had threshed out the
crop, Reynard got all the corn, but Bruin got nothing but roots and
rubbish. He did not like that at all; but Reynard said it was how they
had agreed to share it.

"'This year I have the gain,' said Reynard; 'next year it will be your
turn. Then you shall have the top, and I shall have to put up with the
root.'

"But when spring came, and it was time to sow, Reynard asked Bruin what
he thought of turnips.

"'Aye, aye!' said Bruin, 'that's better food than corn;' and so Reynard
thought also. But when harvest came Reynard got the roots, while Bruin
got the turnip-tops. And then Bruin was so angry with Reynard that he
put an end at once to his partnership with him."

REYNARD WANTS TO TASTE HORSE-FLESH.

"One day as Bruin lay by a horse which he had slain, and was hard at
work eating it, Reynard was out that day too, and came up spying about
and licking his lips, if he might get a taste of the horse-flesh. So he
doubled and turned till he got just behind Bruin's back, and then he
jumped on the other side of the carcass and snapped a mouthful as he ran
by. Bruin was not slow either, for he made a grab at Reynard and caught
the tip of his red brush in his paw; and ever since then Reynard's brush
is white at the tip, as any one may see.

"But that day Bruin was merry, and called out, "'Bide a bit, Reynard;
and come hither, and I'll tell you how to catch a horse for yourself.'

"Yes, Reynard was ready enough to learn, but he did not for all that
trust himself to go very close to Bruin.

"'Listen,' said Bruin, 'when you see a horse asleep, sunning himself in
the sunshine, you must mind and bind yourself fast by the hair of his
tail to your brush, and then you must make your teeth meet in the flesh
of his thigh.'

"As you may fancy, it was not long before Reynard found out a horse that
lay asleep in the sunshine, and then he did as Bruin had told him; for
he knotted and bound himself well into the hair of his tail, and made
his teeth meet in the horse's thigh.

"Up sprang the horse, and began to kick and rear and gallop, so that
Reynard was dashed against stock and stone, and got battered black and
blue, so that he was not far off losing both wit and sense. And while
the horse galloped, they passed Jack Longears, the Hare.

"'Whither away so fast, Reynard?' cried Jack Longears.

"'Post haste, on business of life and death, dear Jack,' cried Reynard.

"And with that Jack stood up on his hind legs, and laughed till his
sides ached and his jaws split right up to his ears. It was so funny to
see Reynard ride post haste.

"But you must know, since that ride Reynard has never thought of
catching a horse for himself. For that once at least it was Bruin who
had the best of it in wit, though they do say he is most often as
simple-minded as the Trolls."

* * * * *

Many other stories Edward and I heard that season up on the Fjeld,
either from the girls, or Peter, or Anders; and here some of them follow
standing by themselves, and not set in a frame.

MASTER TOBACCO

[Illustration: MASTER TOBACCO.]

"Once on a time there was a poor woman who went about begging with her
son; for at home she had neither a morsel to eat nor a stick to burn.
First she tried the country, and went from parish to parish; but it was
poor work, and so she came into the town. There she went about from
house to house for a while, and at last she came to the lord mayor. He
was both open-hearted and open-handed, and he was married to the
daughter of the richest merchant in the town, and they had one little
daughter. As they had no more children, you may fancy she was sugar and
spice and all that's nice, and in a word there was nothing too good for
her. This little girl soon came to know the beggar boy as he went about
with his mother; and as the lord mayor was a wise man, as soon as he saw
what friends the two were, he took the boy into his house, that he might
be his daughter's playmate. Yes, they played and read and went to school
together, and never had so much as one quarrel.

"One day the lady mayoress stood at the window, and watched the children
as they were trudging off to school. There had been a shower of rain,
and the street was flooded, and she saw how the boy first carried the
basket with their dinner over the stream, and then he went back and
lifted the little girl over, and when he set her down he gave her a
kiss.

"When the lady mayoress saw this, she got very angry. 'To think of such
a ragamuffin kissing our daughter--we, who are the best people in the
place!' That was what she said. Her husband did his best to stop her
tongue. 'No one knew,' he said, 'how children would turn out in life, or
what might befall his own: the boy was a clever, handy lad, and often
and often a great tree sprang from a slender plant.'

"But no! it was all the same whatever he said, and whichever way he put
it. The lady mayoress held her own, and said, beggars on horseback
always rode their cattle to death, and that no one had ever heard of a
silk purse being made out of a sow's ear; adding, that a penny would
never turn into a shilling, even though it glittered like a guinea. The
end of it all was that the poor lad was turned out of the house, and had
to pack up his rags and be off.

"When the lord mayor saw there was no help for it, he sent him away with
a trader who had come thither with a ship, and he was to be cabin-boy on
board her. He told his wife he had sold the boy for a roll of tobacco.

"But before he went the lord mayor's daughter broke her ring into two
bits, and gave the boy one bit, that it might be a token to know him by
if they ever met again; and so the ship sailed away, and the lad came to
a town, far, far off in the world, and to that town a priest had just
come who was so good a preacher that every one went to church to hear
him, and the crew of the ship went with the rest the Sunday after to
hear the sermon. As for the lad, he was left behind to mind the ship and
to cook the dinner. So while he was hard at work he heard some one
calling out across the water on an island. So he took the boat and rowed
across, and there he saw an old hag, who called and roared.

"'Aye,' she said, 'you have come at last! Here have I stood a hundred
years calling and bawling, and thinking how I should ever get over this
water; but no one has ever heard or heeded but you, and you shall be
well paid, if you will put me over to the other side.'

"So the lad had to row her to her sister's house, who lived on a hill on
the other side, close by; and when they got there, she told him to beg
for the old table-cloth which lay on the dresser. Yes! he begged for it,
and when the old witch who lived there knew that he had helped her
sister over the water, she said he might have whatever he chose to ask.

"'Oh,' said the boy, 'then I won't have anything else than that old
table-cloth on the dresser yonder.'

"'Oh,' said the old witch, 'that you never asked out of your own wits.'

"'Now I must be off,' said the lad, 'to cook the Sunday dinner for the
church-goers.'

"'Never mind that,' said the first old hag; 'it will cook itself while
you are away. Stop with me, and I will pay you better still. Here have I
stood and called and bawled for a hundred years, but no one has ever
heeded me but you.'

"The end was he had to go with her to another sister, and when he got
there the old hag said he was to be sure and ask for the old sword,
which was such that he could put it into his pocket and it became a
knife, and when he drew it out it was a long sword again. One edge was
black and the other white; and if he smote with the black edge
everything fell dead, and if with the white everything came to life
again. So when they came over, and the second old witch heard how he had
helped her sister across, she said he might have anything he chose to
ask for her fare.

"'Oh,' said the lad, 'then I will have nothing else but that old sword
which hangs up over the cupboard.'

"'That you never asked out of your own wits,' said the old witch; but
for all that he got the sword.

"Then the old hag said again, 'Come on with me to my third sister. Here
have I stood and called and bawled for a hundred years, and no one has
heeded me but you. Come on to my third sister, and you shall have better
pay still.'

"So he went with her, and on the way she told him he was to ask for the
old hymn-book; and that was such a book that when any one was sick and
the nurse sang one of the hymns, the sickness passed away, and they were
well again. Well! when they got across, and the third old witch heard he
had helped her sister across, she said he was to have whatever he chose
to ask for his fare.

"'Oh,' said the lad, 'then I won't have anything else but granny's old
hymn-book.'

"'That,' said the old hag, 'you never asked out of your own wits.'

"When he got back to the ship the crew were still at church, so he tried
his table-cloth, and spread just a little bit of it out, for he wanted
to see what good it was before he laid it on the table. Yes! in a trice,
it was covered with good food and strong drink; enough, and to spare. So
he just took a little snack, and then he gave the ship's dog as much as
it could eat.

"When the church-goers came on board, the captain said, 'Wherever did
you get all that food for the dog? Why, he's as round as a sausage, and
as lazy as a snail.'

"'Oh, if you must know,' said the lad, 'I gave him the bones.'

"'Good boy,' said the captain, 'to think of the dog.'

"So he spread out the cloth, and at once the whole table was covered all
over with such brave meat and drink as they had never before seen in all
their born days.

"Now when the boy was again alone with the dog, he wanted to try the
sword, so he smote at the dog with the black edge, and it fell dead on
the deck; but when he turned the blade and smote with the white edge,
the dog came to life again and wagged his tail and fawned on his
playmate. But the book,--that he could not get tried just then.

"Then they sailed well and far till a storm overtook them, which lasted
many days; so they lay to and drove till they were quite out of their
course, and could not tell where they were. At last the wind fell, and
then they came to a country far, far off, that none of them knew; but
they could easily see there was great grief there, as well there might
be, for the king's daughter was a leper. The king came down to the
shore, and asked was there any one on board who could cure her and make
her well again.

"'No, there was not.' That was what they all said who were on deck.

"'Is there no one else on board the ship than those I see?' asked the
king.

"'Yes; there's a little beggar boy.'

"'Well,' said the king, 'let him come on deck.'

"So when he came, and heard what the king wanted, he said he thought he
might cure her; and then the captain got so wrath and mad with rage that
he ran round and round like a squirrel in a cage, for he thought the boy
was only putting himself forward to do something in which he was sure to
fail, and he told the king not to listen to such childish chatter.

"But the king only said that wit came as children grew, and that there
was the making of a man in every bairn. The boy had said he could do it,
and he might as well try. After all, there were many who had tried and
failed before him. So he took him home to his daughter, and the lad sang
an hymn once. Then the princess could lift her arm. Once again he sang
it, and she could sit up in bed. And when he had sung it thrice the
king's daughter was as well as you and I are.

"The king was so glad, he wanted to give him half his kingdom and the
princess to wife.

"'Yes,' said the lad, 'land and power were fine things to have half of,
and was very grateful; but as for the princess, he was betrothed to
another,' he said, 'and he could not take her to wife.'

"So he stayed there awhile, and got half the kingdom; and when he had
not been very long there, war broke out, and the lad went out to battle
with the rest, and you may fancy he did not spare the black edge of his
sword. The enemy's soldiers fell before him like flies, and the king won
the day. But when they had conquered, he turned the white edge, and they
all rose up alive and became the king's soldiers, who had granted them
their lives. But then there were so many of them that they were badly
off for food, though the king wished to send them away full, both of
meat and drink. So the lad had to bring out his table-cloth, and then
there was not a man that lacked anything.

"Now when he had lived a little longer with the king, he began to long
to see the lord mayor's daughter. So he fitted out four ships of war and
set sail; and when he came off the town where the lord mayor lived, he
fired off his cannon like thunder, till half the panes of glass in the
town were shivered. On board those ships everything was as grand as in a
king's palace; and as for himself, he had gold on every seam of his
coat, so fine he was. It was not long before the lord mayor came down to
the shore and asked if the foreign lord would not be so good as to come
up and dine with him. 'Yes, he would go,' he said; and so he went up to
the mansion-house where the lord mayor lived, and there he took his seat
between the lady mayoress and her daughter.

"So as they sat there in the greatest state, and ate and drank and were
merry, he threw the half of the ring into the daughter's glass, and no
one saw it; but she was not slow to find out what he meant, and excused
herself from the feast and went out and fitted his half to her half. Her
mother saw there was something in the wind and hurried after her as fast
as she could.

"'Do you know who that is in there, mother?' said the daughter.

"'No!' said the lady mayoress.

"'He whom papa sold for a roll of tobacco,' said the daughter.

"At these words the lady mayoress fainted, and fell down flat on the
floor.

"In a little while the lord mayor came out to see what was the matter,
and when he heard how things stood he was almost as uneasy as his wife.

"'There is nothing to make a fuss about,' said Master Tobacco. 'I have
only come to claim the little girl I kissed as we were going to school.'

"But to the lady mayoress, he said, 'You should never despise the
children of the poor and needy, for none can tell how they may turn out;
for there is the making of a man in every child of man, and wit and
wisdom come with growth and strength.'"

THE CHARCOAL-BURNER.

"Once on a time there was a charcoal-burner, who had a son, who was a
charcoal-burner too. When the father was dead, the son took him a wife;
but he was lazy and would turn his hand to nothing. He was careless in
minding his pits too, and the end was no one would have him to burn
charcoal for them.

"It so fell out that one day he had burned a pit full for himself, and
set off to the town with a few loads and sold them; and when he had done
selling, he loitered in the street and looked about him. On his way home
he fell in with townsmen and neighbours, and made merry, and drank, and
chattered of all he had seen in the town. 'The prettiest thing I saw,'
he said, 'was a great crowd of priests, and all the folks greeted them
and took off their hats to them. I only wish I were a priest myself;
then maybe they would take off their hats to me too. As it was they
looked as though they did not even see me at all.'

"'Well, well!' said his friends, 'if you are nothing else, you can't say
you're not as black as a priest. And now we are about it, we can go to
the sale of the old priest, who is dead, and have a glass, and meanwhile
you can buy his gown and hood.' That was what the neighbours said; and
what they said he did, and when he got home he had not so much as a
penny left.

"'Now you have both means and money, I dare say,' said his goody, when
she heard he had sold his charcoal.

"'I should think so. Means, indeed!' said the charcoal-burner, 'for you
must know I have been ordained priest. Here you see both gown and hood.'

"'Nay, I'll never believe that,' said the goody, 'strong ale makes big
words. You are just as bad, whichever end of you turns up. That you
are,' she said.

"'You shall neither scold nor sorrow for the pit, for its last coal is
quenched and cold,' said the charcoal-burner.

"It fell out one day that many people in priests' robes passed by the
charcoal-burner's cottage on their way to the king's palace, so that it
was easy to see there was something in the wind there. Yes! the
charcoal-burner would go too, and so he put on his gown and hood.

"His goody thought it would be far better to stay at home; for even if
he chanced to hold a horse for some great man, the drink-money he got
would only go down his throat like so many before it.

"'There are many, mother, who talk of drink,' said the man, 'who never
think of thirst. All I know is, the more one drinks the more one
thirsts;' and with that he set off for the palace. When he got there,
all the strangers were bidden to come in, and the charcoal-burner
followed with the rest. So the king made them a speech, and said he had
lost his costliest ring, and was quite sure it had been stolen. That was
why he had summoned all the learned priests in the land, to see if there
were one of them who could tell him who the thief was. And he made a vow
there and then, and said what reward he would give to the man who found
out the thief. If he were a curate, he should have a living; if he was a
rector, he should be made a dean; if he were a dean, he should be made a
bishop; and if he were a bishop, he should become the first man in the
kingdom after the king.

"So the king went round and round among them all, from one to the other,
asking them if they could find the thief; and when he came to the
charcoal-burner, he said,

"'Who are you?'

"'I am the wise priest and the true

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