How Brave Walter Hunted Wolves

HOW BRAVE WALTER HUNTED WOLVES

A LITTLE back from the high road there stands a house which is called

'Hemgard.' Perhaps you remember the two beautiful mountain ash trees by

the reddish-brown palings, and the high gate, and the garden with the

beautiful barberry bushes which are always the first to become green in

spring, and which in summer are weighed down with their beautiful

berries.

Behind the garden there is a hedge with tall aspens which rustle in the

morning wind, behind the hedge is a road, behind the road is a wood, and

behind the wood the wide world.

But on the other side of the garden there is a lake, and beyond the lake

is a village, and all around stretch meadows and fields, now yellow, now

green.

In the pretty house, which has white window-frames, a neat porch and

clean steps, which are always strewn with finely-cut juniper leaves,

Walter's parents live. His brother Frederick, his sister Lotta, old

Lena, Jonas, Caro and Bravo, Putte and Murre, and Kuckeliku.

Caro lives in the dog house, Bravo in the stable, Putte with the

stableman, Murre a little here and a little there, and Kuckeliku lives

in the hen house, that is his kingdom.

Walter is six years old, and he must soon begin to go to school. He

cannot read yet, but he can do many other things. He can turn

cartwheels, stand on his head, ride see-saw, throw snowballs, play ball,

crow like a cock, eat bread and butter and drink sour milk, tear his

trousers, wear holes in his elbows, break the crockery in pieces, throw

balls through the windowpanes, draw old men on important papers, walk

over the flower-beds, eat himself sick with gooseberries, and be well

after a whipping. For the rest he has a good heart but a bad memory, and

forgets his father's and his mother's admonitions, and so often gets

into trouble and meets with adventures, as you shall hear, but first of

all I must tell you how brave he was and how he hunted wolves.

Once in the spring, a little before Midsummer, Walter heard that there

were a great many wolves in the wood, and that pleased him. He was

wonderfully brave when he was in the midst of his companions or at home

with his brothers and sister, then he used often to say 'One wolf is

nothing, there ought to be at least four.'

When he wrestled with Klas Bogenstrom or Frithiof Waderfelt and struck

them in the back, he would say: 'That is what I shall do to a wolf!' and

when he shot arrows at Jonas and they rattled against his sheepskin coat

he would say 'That is how I should shoot you if you were a wolf!'

Indeed, some thought that the brave boy boasted a little; but one must

indeed believe him since he said so himself. So Jonas and Lena used to

say of him 'Look, there goes Walter, who shoots the wolves.' And other

boys and girls would say: 'Look, there goes brave Walter who is brave

enough to fight with four.'

There was no one so fully convinced of this as Walter himself, and one

day he prepared himself for a real wolf hunt. He took with him his drum,

which had holes in one end, since the time he had climbed up on it to

reach a cluster of rowan berries, and his tin sabre, which was a little

broken because he had with incredible courage fought his way through a

whole unfriendly army of gooseberry bushes.

He did not forget to arm himself quite to the teeth with his pop-gun,

his bow, and his air-pistol. He had a burnt cork in his pocket to

blacken his moustache, and a red cock's feather to put in his cap to

make himself look fierce. He had besides in his trouser pocket a

clasp-knife with a bone handle, to cut off the ears of the wolves as

soon as he had killed them, for he thought it would be cruel to do that

while they were still living.

It was such a good thing that Jonas was going with corn to the mill, for

Walter got a seat on the load, while Caro ran barking beside them. As

soon as they came to the wood Walter looked cautiously around him to see

perchance there was a wolf in the bushes, and he did not omit to ask

Jonas if wolves were afraid of a drum. 'Of course they are' (that is

understood) said Jonas. Thereupon Walter began to beat his drum with all

his might while they were going through the wood.

When they came to the mill Walter immediately asked if there had been

any wolves in the neighbourhood lately.

'Alas! yes,' said the miller, 'last night the wolves have eaten our

fattest ram there by the kiln not far from here.'

'Ah!' said Walter, 'do you think that there were many?'

'We don't know,' answered the miller.

'Oh, it is all the same,' said Walter. 'I only asked so that I should

know if I should take Jonas with me.

'I could manage very well alone with three, but if there were more, I

might not have time to kill them all before they ran away.'

'In Walter's place I should go quite alone, it is more manly,' said

Jonas.

'No, it is better for you to come, too,' said Walter. 'Perhaps there are

many.'

'No, I have not time,' said Jonas, 'and besides there are sure not to be

more than three. Walter can manage them very well alone.'

'Yes,' said Walter, 'certainly I could; but, you see, Jonas, it might

happen that one of them might bite me in the back, and I should have

more trouble in killing them. If I only knew that there were not more

than two I should not mind, for then I should take one in each hand and

give them a good shaking, like Susanna once shook me.'

'I certainly think that there will not be more than two,' said Jonas,

'there are never more than two when they slay children and rams; Walter

can very well shake them without me.'

'But, you see Jonas,' said Walter, 'if there are two, it might still

happen that one of them escapes and bites me in the leg, for you see I

am not so strong in the left hand as in the right. You can very well

come with me, and take a good stick in case there are really two. Look,

if there is only one, I shall take him so with both my hands and throw

him living on to his back, and he can kick as much as he likes, I shall

hold him fast.'

'Now, when I really think over the thing,' said Jonas, 'I am almost sure

there will not be more than one. What would two do with one ram? There

will certainly not be more than one.'

'But you should come with me all the same, Jonas,' said Walter. 'You see

I can very well manage one, but I am not quite accustomed to wolves yet,

and he might tear holes in my new trousers.'

'Well, just listen,' said Jonas, 'I am beginning to think that Walter is

not so brave as people say. First of all Walter would fight against

four, and then against three, then two, and then one, and now Walter

wants help with one. Such a thing must never be; what would people say?

Perhaps they would think that Walter is a coward?'

'That's a lie,' said Walter, 'I am not at all frightened, but it is more

amusing when there are two. I only want someone who will see how I

strike the wolf and how the dust flies out of his skin.'

'Well, then, Walter can take the miller's little Lisa with him. She can

sit on a stone and look on,' said Jonas.

'No, she would certainly be frightened,' said Walter, 'and how would it

do for a girl to go wolf-hunting? Come with me, Jonas, and you shall

have the skin, and I will be content with the ears and the tail.'

'No, thank you,' said Jonas, 'Walter can keep the skin for himself. Now

I see quite well that he is frightened. Fie, shame on him!'

This touched Walter's pride very near. 'I shall show that I am not

frightened,' he said; and so he took his drum, sabre, cock's feather,

clasp-knife, pop-gun and air-pistol, and went off quite alone to the

wood to hunt wolves.

It was a beautiful evening, and the birds were singing in all the

branches. Walter went very slowly and cautiously. At every step he

looked all round him to see if perchance there was anything lurking

behind the stones. He quite thought something moved away there in the

ditch. Perhaps it was a wolf. It is better for me to beat the drum a

little before I go there, thought Walter.

Br-r-r, so he began to beat his drum. Then something moved again. Caw!

caw! a crow flew up from the ditch. Walter immediately regained courage.

'It was well I took my drum with me,' he thought, and went straight on

with courageous steps. Very soon he came quite close to the kiln, where

the wolves had killed the ram. But the nearer he came the more dreadful

he thought the kiln looked. It was so grey and old. Who knew how many

wolves there might be hidden there? Perhaps the very ones which killed

the ram were still sitting there in a corner. Yes, it was not at all

safe here, and there were no other people to be seen in the

neighbourhood. It would be horrible to be eaten up here in the daylight,

thought Walter to himself; and the more he thought about it the uglier

and grayer the old kiln looked, and the more horrible and dreadful it

seemed to become the food of wolves.

'Shall I go back and say that I struck one wolf and it escaped?' thought

Walter. 'Fie!' said his conscience, 'Do you not remember that a lie is

one of the worst sins, both in the sight of God and man? If you tell a

lie to-day and say you struck a wolf, to-morrow surely it will eat you

up.'

'No, I will go to the kiln,' thought Walter, and so he went. But he did

not go quite near. He went only so near that he could see the ram's

blood which coloured the grass red, and some tufts of wool which the

wolves had torn from the back of the poor animal.

It looked so dreadful.

'I wonder what the ram thought when they ate him up,' thought Walter to

himself; and just then a cold shiver ran through him from his collar

right down to his boots.

'It is better for me to beat the drum,' he thought to himself again, and

so he began to beat it. But it sounded horrid, and an echo came out from

the kiln that seemed almost like the howl of a wolf. The drum-sticks

stiffened in Walter's hands, and he thought now they are coming. . . . !

Yes, sure enough, just then a shaggy, reddish-brown wolf's head looked

out from under the kiln!

What did Walter do now? Yes, the brave Walter who alone could manage

four, threw his drum far away, took to his heels and ran, and ran as

fast as he could back to the mill.

But, alas! the wolf ran after him. Walter looked back; the wolf was

quicker than he and only a few steps behind him. Then Walter ran faster.

But fear got the better of him, he neither heard nor saw anything more.

He ran over sticks, stones and ditches; he lost drum-sticks, sabre, bow,

and air-pistol, and in his terrible hurry he tripped over a tuft of

grass. There he lay, and the wolf jumped on to him. . . .

It was a gruesome tale! Now you may well believe that it was all over

with Walter and all his adventures. That would have been a pity. But do

not be surprised if it was not quite so bad as that, for the wolf was

quite a friendly one. He certainly jumped on to Walter, but he only

shook his coat and rubbed his nose against his face; and Walter

shrieked. Yes, he shrieked terribly!

Happily Jonas heard his cry of distress, for Walter was quite near the

mill now, and he ran and helped him up.

'What has happened?' he asked. 'Why did Walter scream so terribly?'

'A wolf! A wolf!' cried Walter, and that was all he could say.

'Where is the wolf?' said Jonas, 'I don't see any wolf.'

'Take care, he is here, he has bitten me to death,' groaned Walter.

Then Jonas began to laugh; yes, he laughed so that he nearly burst his

skin belt.

Well, well, was that the wolf? Was that the wolf which Walter was to

take by the neck and shake and throw down on its back, no matter how

much it struggled? Just look a little closer at him, he is your old

friend, your own good old Caro. I quite expect he found a leg of the ram

in the kiln. When Walter beat his drum, Caro crept out, and when Walter

ran away, Caro ran after him, as he so often does when Walter wants to

romp and play.

'Down, Caro, you ought to be rather ashamed to have put such a great

hero to flight!'

Walter got up feeling very foolish.

'Down, Caro!' he said, both relieved and annoyed.

'It was only a dog, then if it had been a wolf I certainly should have

killed him. . . .'

'If Walter would listen to my advice, and boast a little less, and do a

little more,' said Jonas, consolingly. 'Walter is not a coward is he?'

'I! You shall see Jonas when we next meet a bear. You see I like so much

better to fight with bears.'

'Indeed!' laughed Jonas. 'Are you at it again?'

'Dear Walter, remember that it is only cowards who boast; a really brave

man never talks of his bravery.'

From Z. Topelius.

THE KING OF THE WATERFALLS

WHEN the young king of Easaidh Ruadh came into his kingdom, the first

thing he thought of was how he could amuse himself best. The sports that

all his life had pleased him best suddenly seemed to have grown dull,

and he wanted to do something he had never done before. At last his face

brightened.

'I know!' he said, 'I will go and play a game with the Gruagach. Now the

Gruagach was a kind of wicked fairy, with long curly brown hair, and his

house was not very far from the king's house.

But though the king was young and eager, he was also prudent, and his

father had told him on his deathbed to be very careful in his dealings

with the 'good people,' as the fairies were called. Therefore before

going to the Gruagach, the king sought out a wise man of the country

side.

'I am wanting to play a game with the curly-haired Gruagach,' said he.

'Are you, indeed?' replied the wizard. 'If you will take my counsel, you

will play with someone else.'

'No; I will play with the Gruagach,' persisted the king.

'Well, if you must, you must, I suppose,' answered the wizard; 'but if

you win that game, ask as a prize the ugly crop-headed girl that stands

behind the door.'

'I will,' said the king.

So before the sun rose he got up and went to the house of the Gruagach,

who was sitting outside.

'O king, what has brought you here to-day?' asked the Gruagach. 'But

right welcome you are, and more welcome will you be still if you will

play a game with me.'

'That is just what I want,' said the king, and they played; and

sometimes it seemed as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in

the end it was the king who was the winner.

'And what is the prize that you will choose?' inquired the Gruagach.

'The ugly crop-headed girl that stands behind the door,' replied the

king.

'Why, there are twenty others in the house, and each fairer than she,'

exclaimed the Gruagach.

'Fairer they may be, but it is she whom I wish for my wife, and none

other,' and the Gruagach saw that the king's mind was set upon her, so

he entered his house, and bade all the maidens in it come out one by

one, and pass before the king.

One by one they came; tall and short, dark and fair, plump and thin, and

each said, 'I am she whom you want. You will be foolish indeed if you do

not take me.'

But he took none of them, neither short nor tall, dark nor fair, plump

nor thin, till at the last the crop-headed girl came out.

'This is mine,' said the king, though she was so ugly that most men

would have turned from her. 'We will be married at once, and I will

carry you home.' And married they were, and they set forth across a

meadow to the king's house. As they went, the bride stooped and picked a

sprig of shamrock, which grew amongst the grass, and when she stood

upright again her ugliness had all gone, and the most beautiful woman

that ever was seen stood by the king's side.

The next day, before the sun rose, the king sprang from his bed, and

told his wife he must have another game with the Gruagach.

[Illustration: "When she stood upright her ugliness had all gone."]

'If my father loses that game, and you win it,' said she, 'accept

nothing for your prize but the shaggy young horse with the stick

saddle.'

'I will do that,' answered the king, and he went.

   *       *       *       *       *

'Does your bride please you?' asked the Gruagach, who was standing at

his own door.

'Ah! does she not!' answered the king quickly, 'otherwise I should be

hard indeed to please. But will you play a game to-day?'

'I will,' replied the Gruagach, and they played, and sometimes it seemed

as if one would win, and sometimes the other, but in the end the king

was the winner.

'What is the prize that you will choose?' asked the Gruagach.

'The shaggy young horse with the stick saddle,' answered the king, but

he noticed that the Gruagach held his peace, and his brow was dark as he

led out the horse from the stable. Rough was its mane and dull was its

skin, but the king cared nothing for that, and throwing his leg over the

stick saddle, rode away like the wind.

On the third morning the king got up as usual before dawn, and as soon

as he had eaten food he prepared to go out, when his wife stopped him.

'I would rather,' she said, 'that you did not go to play with the

Gruagach, for though twice you have won yet some day he will win,

and then he will put trouble upon you.'

'Oh! I must have one more game,' cried the king; 'just this one,' and

he went off to the house of the Gruagach.

   *       *       *       *       *

Joy filled the heart of the Gruagach when he saw him coming, and without

waiting to talk they played their game. Somehow or other, the king's

strength and skill had departed from him, and soon the Gruagach was the

victor.

'Choose your prize,' said the king, when the game was ended, 'but do not

be too hard on me, or ask what I cannot give.'

'The prize I choose,' answered the Gruagach, 'is that the crop-headed

creature should take thy head and thy neck, if thou dost not get for me

the Sword of Light that hangs in the house of the king of the oak

windows.'

'I will get it,' replied the young man bravely, but as soon as he was

out of sight of the Gruagach, he pretended no more, and his face grew

dark and his steps lagging.

'You have brought nothing with you to-night,' said the queen, who was

standing on the steps awaiting him. She was so beautiful that the king

was fain to smile when he looked at her, but then he remembered what had

happened, and his heart grew heavy again.

'What is it? What is the matter? Tell me thy sorrow that I may bear it

with thee, or, it may be, help thee!' Then the king told her everything

that had befallen him, and she stroked his hair the while.

'That is nothing to grieve about,' she said when the tale was finished.

'You have the best wife in Erin, and the best horse in Erin. Only do as

I bid you, and all will go well.' And the king suffered himself to be

comforted.

He was still sleeping when the queen rose and dressed herself, to make

everything ready for her husband's journey, and the first place she went

to was the stable, where she fed and watered the shaggy brown horse and

put the saddle on it. Most people thought this saddle was of wood, and

did not see the little sparkles of gold and silver that were hidden in

it. She strapped it lightly on the horse's back, and then led it down

before the house, where the king waited.

'Good luck to you and victories in all your battles,' she said, as she

kissed him before he mounted. 'I need not be telling you anything. Take

the advice of the horse, and see you obey it.'

[Illustration: How The QUEEN brings The Shaggy Brown Horse to the KING]

So he waved his hand and set out on his journey, and the wind was not

swifter than the brown horse--no, not even the March wind which raced

it, and could not catch it. But the horse never stopped nor looked

behind, till in the dark of the night he reached the castle of the king

of the oak windows.

'We are at the end of the journey,' said the horse, 'and you will find

the Sword of Light in the king's own chamber. If it comes to you without

scrape or sound, the token is a good one. At this hour the king is

eating his supper, and the room is empty, so none will see you. The

sword has a knob at the end, and take heed that when you grasp it, you

draw it softly out of its sheath. Now go! I will be under the window!'

Stealthily the young man crept along the passage, pausing now and then

to make sure that no man was following him, and entered the king's

chamber. A strange white line of light told him where the sword was, and

crossing the room on tiptoe, he seized the knob, and drew it slowly out

of the sheath. The king could hardly breathe with excitement lest it

should make some noise and bring all the people in the castle running to

see what was the matter. But the sword slid swiftly and silently along

the case till only the point was left touching it. Then a low sound was

heard, as of the edge of a knife touching a silver plate, and the king

was so startled that he nearly dropped the knob.

'Quick! quick!' cried the horse, and the king scrambled hastily through

the small window, and leapt into the saddle.

'He has heard and he will follow,' said the horse; 'but we have a good

start.' And on they sped, on and on, leaving the winds behind them.

At length the horse slackened its pace. 'Look and see who is behind

you,' it said, and the young man looked.

'I see a swarm of brown horses racing madly after us,' he answered.

'We are swifter than those,' said the horse, and flew on again.

'Look again, O king! Is anyone coming now?'

'A swarm of black horses, and one has a white face, and on that horse a

man is seated. He is the king of the oak windows.'

'That is my brother, and swifter still than I,' said the horse, 'and he

will fly past me with a rush. Then you must have your sword ready, and

take off the head of the man who sits on him, as he turns and looks at

you. And there is no sword in the world that will cut off his head, save

only that one.'

'I will do it,' replied the king, and he listened with all his might,

till he judged that the white-faced horse was close to him. Then he sat

up very straight and made ready.

The next moment there was a rushing noise as of a mighty tempest, and

the young man caught a glimpse of a face turned toward him. Almost

blindly he struck, not knowing whether he had killed or only wounded the

rider. But the head rolled off, and was caught in the brown horse's

mouth.

'Jump on my brother, the black horse, and go home as fast as you can,

and I will follow as quickly as I may,' cried the brown horse; and

leaping forward the king alighted on the back of the black horse, but so

near the tail that he almost fell off again. But he stretched out his

arm and clutched wildly at the mane and pulled himself into the saddle.

Before the sky was streaked with red he was at home again, and the queen

was sitting waiting till he arrived, for sleep was far from her eyes.

Glad was she to see him enter, but she said little, only took her harp

and sang softly the songs which he loved, till he went to bed, soothed

and happy.

   *       *       *       *       *

It was broad day when he woke, and he sprang up saying,

'Now I must go to the Gruagach, to find out if the spells he laid on me

are loose.'

'Have a care,' answered the queen, 'for it is not with a smile as on the

other days that he will greet you. Furiously he will meet you, and will

ask you in his wrath if you have got the sword, and you will reply that

you have got it. Next he will want to know how you got it, and to this

you must say that but for the knob you had not got it at all. Then he

will raise his head to look at the knob, and you must stab him in the

mole which is on the right side of his neck; but take heed, for if you

miss the mole with the point of the sword, then my death and your death

are certain. He is brother to the king of the oak windows, and sure will

he be that the king must be dead, or the sword would not be in your

hands.' After that she kissed him, and bade him good speed.

   *       *       *       *       *

'Didst thou get the sword?' asked the Gruagach, when they met in the

usual place.

'I got the sword.'

'And how didst thou get it?'

'If it had not had a knob on the top, then I had not got it,' answered

the king.

'Give me the sword to look at,' said the Gruagach, peering forward; but

like a flash the king had drawn it from under his nose and pierced the

mole, so that the Gruagach rolled over on the ground.

'Now I shall be at peace,' thought the king. But he was wrong, for when

he reached home he found his servants tied together back to back, with

cloths bound round their mouths, so that they could not speak. He

hastened to set them free, and he asked who had treated them in so evil

a manner.

'No sooner had you gone than a great giant came, and dealt with us as

you see, and carried off your wife and your two horses,' said the men.

'Then my eyes will not close nor will my head lay itself down till I

fetch my wife and horses home again,' answered he, and he stooped and

noted the tracks of the horses on the grass, and followed after them

till he arrived at the wood when the darkness fell.

'I will sleep here,' he said to himself, 'but first I will make a fire.'

And he gathered together some twigs that were lying about, and then took

two dry sticks and rubbed them together till the fire came, and he sat

by it.

The twigs crackled and the flame blazed up, and a slim yellow dog pushed

through the bushes and laid his head on the king's knee, and the king

stroked his head.

'Wuf, wuf,' said the dog. 'Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy

horses when the giant drove them last night through the forest.'

'That is why I have come;' answered the king, and suddenly his heart

seemed to fail him and he felt that he could not go on.'

'I cannot fight that giant,' he cried, looking at the dog with a white

face. 'I am afraid, let me turn homewards.'

'No, don't do that,' replied the dog. 'Eat and sleep, and I will watch

over you.' So the king ate and lay down, and slept till the sun waked

him.

'It is time for you to start on your way,' said the dog, 'and if danger

presses, call on me, and I will help you.'

'Farewell, then,' answered the king; 'I will not forget that promise,'

and on he went, and on, and on, till he reached a tall cliff with many

sticks lying about.

'It is almost night,' he thought; 'I will make a fire and rest,' and

thus he did, and when the flames blazed up, the hoary hawk of the grey

rock flew on to a bough above him.

'Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed here

with the giant,' said the hawk.

'Never shall I find them,' answered the king, 'and nothing shall I get

for all my trouble.'

'Oh, take heart,' replied the hawk, 'things are never so bad but what

they might be worse. Eat and sleep and I will watch thee,' and the king

did as he was bidden by the hawk, and by the morning he felt brave

again.

'Farewell,' said the bird, 'and if danger presses call to me, and I will

help you.'

On he walked, and on, and on, till as the dusk was falling he came to a

great river, and on the bank there were sticks lying about.

'I will make myself a fire,' he thought, and thus he did, and by and bye

a smooth brown head peered at him from the water, and a long body

followed it.

'Sore was the plight of thy wife and thy horses when they passed the

river last night,' said the otter.

'I have sought them and not found them,' answered the king, 'and nought

shall I get for my trouble.'

'Be not so downcast,' replied the otter; 'before noon to-morrow thou

shalt behold thy wife. But eat and sleep and I will watch over thee.' So

the king did as the otter bid him, and when the sun rose he woke and saw

the otter lying on the bank.

'Farewell,' cried the otter as he jumped into the water, 'and if danger

presses, call to me and I will help you.'

   *       *       *       *       *

For many hours the king walked, and at length he reached a high rock,

which was rent in two by a great earthquake. Throwing himself on the

ground he looked over the side, and right at the very bottom he saw his

wife and his horses. His heart gave a great bound, and all his fears

left him, but he was forced to be patient, for the sides of the rock

were smooth, and not even a goat could find foothold. So he got up

again, and made his way round through the wood, pushing by trees,

scrambling over rocks, wading through streams, till at last he was on

flat ground again, close to the mouth of the cavern.

His wife gave a shriek of joy when he came in, and then burst into

tears, for she was tired and very frightened. But her husband did not

understand why she wept, and he was tired and bruised from his climb,

and a little cross too.

'You give me but a sorry welcome,' grumbled he, 'when I have half-killed

myself to get to you.'

'Do not heed him,' said the horses to the weeping woman, 'put him in

front of us, where he will be safe, and give him food for he is weary.'

And she did as the horses told her, and he ate and rested, till by and

bye a long shadow fell over them, and their hearts beat with fear, for

they knew that the giant was coming.

   *       *       *       *       *

'I smell a stranger,' cried the giant, as he entered, but it was dark

inside the chasm, and he did not see the king, who was crouching down

between the feet of the horses.

'A stranger, my lord! no stranger ever comes here, not even the sun!'

and the king's wife laughed gaily as she went up to the giant and

stroked the huge hand which hung down by his side.

'Well, I perceive nothing, certainly,' answered he, 'but it is very odd.

However, it is time that the horses were fed'; and he lifted down an

armful of hay from a shelf of rock and held out a handful to each

animal, who moved forward to meet him, leaving the king behind. As soon

as the giant's hands were near their mouths they each made a snap, and

began to bite them, so that his groans and shrieks might have been heard

a mile off. Then they wheeled round and kicked him till they could kick

no more. At length the giant crawled away, and lay quivering in a

corner, and the queen went up to him.

'Poor thing! poor thing!' she said, 'they seem to have gone mad; it was

awful to behold.'

'If I had had my soul in my body they would certainly have killed me,'

groaned the giant.

'It was lucky indeed,' answered the queen; 'but tell me, where is thy

soul, that I may take care of it?'

'Up there, in the Bonnach stone,' answered the giant, pointing to a

stone which was balanced loosely on an edge of rock. 'But now leave me,

that I may sleep, for I have far to go to-morrow.'

Soon snores were heard from the corner where the giant lay, and then the

queen lay down too, and the horses, and the king was hidden between

them, so that none could see him.

Before the dawn the giant rose and went out, and immediately the queen

ran up to the Bonnach stone, and tugged and pushed at it till it was

quite steady on its ledge, and could not fall over. And so it was in the

evening when the giant came home; and when they saw his shadow, the king

crept down in front of the horses.

'Why, what have you done to the Bonnach stone?' asked the giant.

'I feared lest it should fall over, and be broken, with your soul in

it,' said the queen, 'so I put it further back on the ledge.

'It is not there that my soul is,' answered he, 'it is on the threshold.

But it is time the horses were fed'; and he fetched the hay, and gave it

to them, and they bit and kicked him as before, till he lay half dead on

the ground.

Next morning he rose and went out, and the queen ran to the threshold of

the cave, and washed the stones, and pulled up some moss and little

flowers that were hidden in the crannies, and by and bye when dusk had

fallen the giant came home.

'You have been cleaning the threshold,' said he.

'And was I not right to do it, seeing that your soul is in it?' asked

the queen.

[Illustration: THE GIANT'S SHADOW]

'It is not there that my soul is,' answered the giant. 'Under the

threshold is a stone, and under the stone is a sheep, and in the sheep's

body is a duck, and in the duck is an egg, and in the egg is my soul.

But it is late, and I must feed the horses'; and he brought them the

hay, but they only bit and kicked him as before, and if his soul had

been within him, they would have killed him outright.

   *       *       *       *       *

It was still dark when the giant got up and went his way, and then the

king and the queen ran forward to take up the threshold, while the

horses looked on. But sure enough! just as the giant had said,

underneath the threshold was the flagstone, and they pulled and tugged

till the stone gave way. Then something jumped out so suddenly, that it

nearly knocked them down, and as it fled past, they saw it was a sheep.

'If the slim yellow dog of the greenwood were only here, he would soon

have that sheep,' cried the king; and as he spoke, the slim yellow dog

appeared from the forest, with the sheep in his mouth. With a blow from

the king, the sheep fell dead, and they opened its body, only to be

blinded by a rush of wings as the duck flew past.

'If the hoary hawk of the rock were only here he would soon have that

duck,' cried the king; and as he spoke the hoary hawk was seen hovering

above them, with the duck in his mouth. They cut off the duck's head

with a swing of the king's sword, and took the egg out of its body, but

in his triumph the king held it carelessly, and it slipped from his

hand, and rolled swiftly down the hill right into the river.

'If the brown otter of the stream were only here, he would soon have

that egg,' cried the king; and the next minute there was the brown

otter, dripping with water, holding the egg in his mouth. But beside the

brown otter, a huge shadow came stealing along--the shadow of the giant.

The king stood staring at it, as if he were turned into stone, but the

queen snatched the egg from the otter and crushed it between her two

hands. And after that the shadow suddenly shrank and was still, and they

knew that the giant was dead, because they had found his soul.

Next day they mounted the two horses and rode home again, visiting their

friends the brown otter and the hoary hawk and the slim yellow dog by

the way.

From 'West Highland Tales.'