"Yes," answered he, "and now we will walk a little outside the town."
And they went together along the high road. It was warm weather, and when they had gone a little way the dog said,
"I am tired, and would like to go to sleep."
"Well, do so," said the sparrow; "in the meanwhile I will sit near on a bough." The dog laid himself in the road and fell fast asleep, and as he lay there a waggoner came up with a waggon and three horses, laden with two casks of wine; the sparrow, seeing that he was not going to turn aside but kept in the beaten track, just where the dog lay, cried out,
"Waggoner, take care, or you shall suffer for it!"
But the waggoner, muttering, "What harm can you do to me?" cracked his whip and drove his waggon over the dog, and he was crushed to death by the wheels. Then the sparrow cried,
"Thou hast killed the dog my brother, and it shall cost thee horses and cart!"
"Oh! horses and cart!" said the waggoner, "what harm can you do me, I should like to know?" and drove on. The sparrow crept under the covering of the waggon and pecked at the bung-hole of one of the casks until the cork came out, and all the wine ran out without the waggoner noticing.
After a while, looking round, he saw that something dripped from the waggon, and on examining the casks he found that one of them was empty, and he cried out,
"I am a ruined man!"
"Not ruined enough yet!" said the sparrow, and flying to one of the horses he perched on his head and pecked at his eyes. When the waggoner saw that he took out his axe to hit the sparrow, who at that moment flew aloft, and the waggoner missing him struck the horse on the head, so that he fell down dead.
"Oh, I am a ruined man!" cried he.
"Not ruined enough yet!" said the sparrow, and as the waggoner drove on with the two horses that were left the sparrow crept again under the waggon-covering and pecked the cork out of the second cask, so that all the wine leaked out. When the waggoner became aware of it, he cried out again,
"Oh! I am a ruined man!" But the sparrow answered, "Not ruined enough yet!" and perched on the second horse"s head and began pecking at his eyes. Back ran the waggoner and raised his axe to strike, but the sparrow flying aloft, the stroke fell on the horse, so that he was killed.
"Oh! I am a ruined man!" cried the waggoner.
"Not ruined enough yet!" said the sparrow, and perching on the third horse began pecking at his eyes. The waggoner struck out in his anger at the sparrow without taking aim, and missing him, he laid his third horse dead.
"Oh! I am a ruined man!" he cried.
"Not ruined enough yet!" answered the sparrow, flying off; "I will see to that at home."
So the waggoner had to leave his waggon standing, and went home full of rage.
"Oh!" said he to his wife, "what ill-luck I have had! the wine is spilt, and the horses are all three dead."
"O husband!" answered she, "such a terrible bird has come to this house; he has brought with him all the birds of the air, and there they are in the midst of our wheat devouring it." And he looked and there were thousands upon thousands of birds sitting on the ground, having eaten up all the wheat, and the sparrow in the midst, and the waggoner cried,
"Oh! I am a ruined man!"
"Not ruined enough yet!" answered the sparrow; "Waggoner, it shall cost thee thy life!" and he flew away.
Now the waggoner, having lost everything he possessed, went in-doors and sat down angry and miserable behind the stove. The sparrow was perched outside on the window-sill, and cried, "Waggoner, it shall cost thee thy life!" Then the waggoner seized his axe and threw it at the sparrow, but it broke the window sash in two and did not touch the sparrow, who now hopped inside, perched on the stove, and cried.
"Waggoner it shall cost thee thy life!" and he, mad and blind with rage, beat in the stove, and as the sparrow flew from one spot to another, hacked everything in pieces, furniture, looking-gla.s.ses, benches, table, and the very walls of his house, and yet did not touch the sparrow.
At last he caught and held him in his hand.
"Now," said his wife, "shall I not kill him?"
"No!" cried he, "that were too easy a death; I will swallow him," and as the bird was fluttering in the man"s mouth, it stretched out its head, saying,
"Waggoner, it shall cost thee thy life!"
Then the waggoner reached the axe to his wife saying,
"Wife, strike me this bird dead."
The wife struck, but missed her aim, and the blow fell on the waggoner"s head, and he dropped down dead.
But the sparrow flew over the hills and away.
FRED and KATE
THERE were once a young husband and wife, and their names were Fred and Kate. One day said Fred,
"I must go now to my work in the fields, Kate, and when I come back you must have on the table some roast meat to satisfy my hunger, and some cool drink to quench my thirst."
"All right, Fred," answered Kate; "be off with you, I will see to it."
When dinner-time began to draw near, she took down a sausage from the chimney, put it in a frying-pan with some b.u.t.ter, and stood it over the fire. The sausage began to frizzle and fry, and Kate stood holding the handle of the pan, and fell into deep thought; at last she said to herself,
"While the sausage is cooking I might as well be drawing the beer in the cellar."
So she saw that the frying-pan was standing firmly, and then took a can and went down into the cellar to draw the beer. Now, while Kate was watching the beer run into the can, a sudden thought came into her mind.
"Holloa! the dog is not fastened up; he may perhaps get at the sausage,"
and in a trice she was up the cellar steps: but already the dog had it in his mouth, and was making off with it. Then Kate, with all haste, followed after him and chased him a good way into the fields, but the dog was quicker than Kate, and, never letting slip the sausage, was soon at a great distance.
"Well, it can"t be helped!" said Kate turning back, and as she had tired herself with running, she took her time about going home, and walked slowly to cool herself. All this time the beer was running out of the cask, for Kate had not turned off the tap, and as the can was soon full, it began to run over on the cellar floor, and ran, and ran, until the cask was empty. Kate stood on the steps and saw the misfortune.
"Dear me!" cried she, "what am I to do to prevent Fred from noticing it!"
She considered for a while, and then remembered that there was remaining in the loft from the last fair time a sack of fine wheat-flour; she determined to bring it down, and strew it over the beer.
"To be sure," said she, "those who know how to save have somewhat in time of necessity."
And going up to the loft, she dragged the sack down and threw it right upon the can full of beer, so that Fred"s drink ran about the cellar with the rest.
"It is all right," said Kate; "where some goes the rest must follow,"
and she strewed the meal all over the cellar. When all was done, she was highly pleased, and thought how clean and neat it looked.
At dinner-time home came Fred.