REYNARD AND CHANTICLEER.
"Once on a time there was a c.o.c.k 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. G.o.d 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 h.e.l.l 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 pa.s.sed 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 unG.o.dliness, 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."