DAPPLEGRIM

DAPPLEGRIM

Once on a time there was a rich couple who had twelve sons; but the youngest

when he was grown up, said he wouldn’t stay any longer at home, but be

off into the world to try his luck. His father and mother said he did very well

at home, and had better stay where he was. But no, he couldn’t rest; away

he must and would go. So at last they gave him leave. And when he had walked a

good bit, he came to a king’s palace, where he asked for a place, and got

it.

Now the daughter of the king of that land had been carried off into the hill by

a Troll, and the king had no other children; so he and all his land were in

great grief and sorrow, and the king gave his word that any one who could set

her free should have the Princess and half the kingdom. But there was no one

who could do it, though many tried.

So when the lad had been there a year or so, he longed to go home again and see

his father and mother, and back he went, but when he got home his father and

mother were dead, and his brothers had shared all that the old people owned

between them, and so there was nothing left for the lad.

“Shan’t I have anything at all, then, out of father’s and

mother’s goods?” said the lad.

“Who could tell you were still alive, when you went gadding and wandering

about so long?” said his brothers. “But all the same; there are

twelve mares up on the hill which we haven’t yet shared among us; if you

choose to take them for your share, you’re quite welcome.”

Yes! the lad was quite content; so he thanked his brothers, and went at once up

on the hill, where the twelve mares were out at grass. And when he got up there

and found them, each of them had a foal at her side, and one of them had

besides, along with her, a big dapple-gray foal, which was so sleek that the

sun shone from its coat.

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

“Yes”, said the foal; “but if you’ll only kill all the

other foals, so that I may run and suck all the mares one year more,

you’ll see how big and sleek I’ll be then.”

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

went home again.

So when he came back the next year to look after his foal and mares, the foal

was so fat and sleek, that the sun shone from its coat, and it had grown so

big, the lad had hard work to mount it. As for the mares, they had each of them

another foal.

“Well, it’s quite plain I lost nothing by letting you suck all my

twelve mares”, said the lad to the yearling, “but now you’re

big enough to come along with me.”

“No”, said the colt, “I must bide here a year longer; and now

kill all the twelve foals, that I may suck all the mares this year too, and

you’ll see how big and sleek I’ll be by summer.”

Yes! the lad did that; and next year when he went up on the hill to look after

his colt and the mares, each mare had her foal, but the dapple colt was so tall

the lad couldn’t reach up to his crest when he wanted to feel how fat he

was; and so sleek he was too, that his coat glistened in the sunshine.

“Big and beautiful you were last year, my colt”, said the lad,

“but this year you’re far grander. There’s no such horse in

the king’s stable. But now you must come along with me.”

“No”, said Dapple again, “I must stay here one year more.

Kill the twelve foals as before, that I may suck the mares the whole year, and

then just come and look at me when the summer comes.”

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

But when he went up next year to look after Dapple and the mares, he was quite

astonished. So tall, and stout, and sturdy, he never thought a horse could be;

for Dapple had to lie down on all fours before the lad could bestride him, and

it was hard work to get up even then, although he lay flat; and his coat was so

smooth and sleek, the sunbeams shone from it as from a looking-glass.

This time Dapple was willing enough to follow the lad, so he jumped up on his

back, and when he came riding home to his brothers, they all clapped their

hands and crossed themselves, for such a horse they had never heard of nor seen

before.

“If you will only get me the best shoes you can for my horse, and the

grandest saddle and bridle that are to be found”, said the lad,

“you may have my twelve mares that graze up on the hill yonder, and their

twelve foals into the bargain.” For you must know that this year too

every mare had her foal.

Yes, his brothers were ready to do that, and so the lad got such strong shoes

under his horse, that the stones flew high aloft as he rode away across the

hills; and he had a golden saddle and a golden bridle, which gleamed and

glistened a long way off.

“Now we’re off to the king’s palace”, said

Dapplegrim—that was his name; “but mind you ask the king for a good

stable and good fodder for me.”

Yes! the lad said he would mind; he’d be sure not to forget; and when he

rode off from his brothers’ house, you may be sure it wasn’t long,

with such a horse under him, before he got to the king’s palace.

When he came there the king was standing on the steps, and stared and stared at

the man who came riding along.

“Nay, nay!”, said he, “such a man and such a horse I never

yet saw in all my life.”

But when the lad asked if he could get a place in the king’s household,

the king was so glad he was ready to jump and dance as he stood on the steps.

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

“Aye”, said the lad, “but I must have good stable-room for my

horse, and fodder that one can trust.”

Yes! he should have meadow-hay and oats, as much as Dapple could cram, and all

the other knights had to lead their horses out of the stable that Dapplegrim

might stand alone, and have it all to himself.

But it wasn’t long before all the others in the king’s household

began to be jealous of the lad, and there was no end to the bad things they

would have done to him, if they had only dared. At last they thought of telling

the king he had said he was man enough to set the king’s daughter

free—whom the Troll had long since carried away into the hill—if he

only chose. The king called the lad before him, and said he had heard the lad

said he was good to do so and so; so now he must go and do it. If he did it, he

knew how the king had promised his daughter and half the kingdom, and that

promise would be faithfully kept; if he didn’t, he should be killed.

The lad kept on saying he never said any such thing; but it was no

good—the king wouldn’t even listen to him; and so the end of it was

he was forced to say he’d go and try.

So he went into the stable, down in the mouth and heavy-hearted, and then

Dapplegrim asked him at once why he was in such dumps.

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

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

stuff.”

“Oh! but it might be done, perhaps”, said Dapplegrim.

“I’ll help you through; but you must first have me well shod. You

must go and ask for ten pound of iron and twelve pound of steel for the shoes,

and one smith to hammer and another to hold.”

Yes, the lad did that, and got for answer “Yes!” He got both the

iron and the steel, and the smiths, and so Dapplegrim was shod both strong and

well, and off went the lad from the court-yard in a cloud of dust.

But when he came to the hill into which the Princess had been carried, the

pinch was how to get up the steep wall of rock where the Troll’s cave

was, in which the Princess had been hid. For you must know the hill stood

straight up and down right on end, as upright as a house-wall, and as smooth as

a sheet of glass.

The first time the lad went at it he got a little way up; but then

Dapple’s fore-legs slipped, and down they went again, with a sound like

thunder on the hill.

The second time he rode at it he got some way further up; but then one fore-leg

slipped, and down they went with a crash like a landslip.

But the third time Dapple said:

“Now we must show our mettle”; and went at it again till the stones

flew heaven-high about them, and so they got up.

Then the lad rode right into the cave at full speed, and caught up the

Princess, and threw her over his saddle-bow and out and down again before the

Troll had time even to get on his legs; and so the Princess was freed.

When the lad came back to the palace, the king was both happy and glad to get

his daughter back; that you may well believe; but somehow or other, though I

don’t know how, the others about the court had so brought it about that

the king was angry with the lad after all.

“Thanks you shall have for freeing my Princess”, said he to the

lad, when he brought the Princess into the hall, and made his bow.

“She ought to be mine as well as yours; for you’re a word-fast man,

I hope”, said the lad.

“Aye, aye!” said the king, “have her you shall, since I said

it; but first of all, you must make the sun shine into my palace hall.”

Now, you must know there was a high steep ridge of rock close outside the

windows, which threw such a shade over the hall that never a sunbeam shone into

it.

“That wasn’t in our bargain”, answered the lad; “but I

see this is past praying against; I must e’en go and try my luck, for the

Princess I must and will have.”

So down he went to Dapple, and told him what the king wanted, and Dapplegrim

thought it might easily be done, but first of all he must be new shod; and for

that ten pound of iron, and twelve pound of steel besides, were needed, and two

smiths, one to hammer and the other to hold, and then they’d soon get the

sun to shine into the palace hall.

So when the lad asked for all these things, he got them at once—the king

couldn’t say nay for very shame; and so Dapplegrim got new shoes, and

such shoes! Then the lad jumped upon his back, and off they went again; and for

every leap that Dapplegrim gave, down sank the ridge fifteen ells into the

earth, and so they went on till there was nothing left of the ridge for the

king to see.

When the lad got back to the king’s palace, he asked the king if the

Princess were not his now; for now no one could say that the sun didn’t

shine into the hall. But then the others set the king’s back up again,

and he answered the lad should have her of course, he had never thought of

anything else; but first of all he must get as grand a horse for the bride to

ride on to church as the bridegroom had himself.

The lad said the king hadn’t spoken a word about this before, and that he

thought he had now fairly earned the Princess; but the king held to his own;

and more, if the lad couldn’t do that he should lose his life; that was

what the king said. So the lad went down to the stable in doleful dumps, as you

may well fancy, and there he told Dapplegrim all about it; how the king had

laid that task on him, to find the bride as good a horse as the bridegroom had

himself, else he would lose his life.

“But that’s not so easy”, he said, “for your match

isn’t to be found in the wide world.”

“Oh yes, I have a match”, said Dapplegrim; “but

’tisn’t so easy to find him, for he abides in Hell. Still

we’ll try. And now you must go up to the king and ask for new shoes for

me, ten pound of iron, and twelve pound of steel; and two smiths, one to hammer

and one to hold; and mind you see that the points and ends of these shoes are

sharp; and twelve sacks of rye, and twelve sacks of barley, and twelve

slaughtered oxen, we must have with us; and mind, we must have the twelve

ox-hides, with twelve hundred spikes driven into each; and, let me see, a big

tar-barrel—that’s all we want.”

So the lad went up to the king and asked for all that Dapplegrim had said, and

the king again thought he couldn’t say nay, for shame’s sake, and

so the lad got all he wanted.

Well, he jumped up on Dapplegrim’s back, and rode away from the palace,

and when he had ridden far far over hill and heath, Dapple asked:

“Do you hear anything?”

“Yes, I hear an awful hissing and rustling up in the air,” said the

lad; “I think I’m getting afraid.”

“That’s all the wild birds that fly through the wood. They are sent

to stop us; but just cut a hole in the corn-sacks, and then they’ll have

so much to do with the corn, they’ll forget us quite.”

Yes! the lad did that; he cut holes in the corn-sacks, so that the rye and

barley ran out on all sides. Then all the wild birds that were in the wood came

flying round them so thick that the sunbeams grew dark; but as soon as they saw

the corn, they couldn’t keep to their purpose, but flew down and began to

pick and scratch at the rye and barley, and after that they began to fight

among themselves. As for Dapplegrim and the lad, they forgot all about them,

and did them no harm.

So the lad rode on and on—far far over mountain and dale, over sand-hills

and moor. Then Dapplegrim began to prick up his ears again, and at last he

asked the lad if he heard anything?

“Yes! now I hear such an ugly roaring and howling in the wood all round,

it makes me quite afraid.”

“Ah!” said Dapplegrim, “that’s all the wild beasts that

range through the wood, and they’re sent out to stop us. But just cast

out the twelve carcasses of the oxen, that will give them enough to do, and so

they’ll forget us outright.”

Yes! the lad cast out the carcasses, and then all the wild beasts in the wood,

both bears, and wolves, and lions—all fell beasts of all kinds—came

after them. But when they saw the carcasses, they began to fight for them among

themselves till blood flowed in streams; but Dapplegrim and the lad they quite

forgot.

So the lad rode far away, and they changed the landscape many many times, for

Dapplegrim didn’t let the grass grow under him, as you may fancy. At last

Dapple gave a great neigh.

“Do you hear anything?” he said.

“Yes, I hear something like a colt neighing loud, a long long way

off”, answered the lad.

“That’s a full-grown colt then”, said Dapplegrim, “if

we hear him neigh so loud such a long way off.”

After that they travelled a good bit, changing the landscape once or twice,

maybe. Then Dapplegrim gave another neigh.

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

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

lad.

“Aye! aye!” said Dapplegrim, “you’ll hear him once

again soon, and then you’ll hear he’s got a voice of his

own.”

So they travelled on and on, and changed the landscape once or twice, perhaps,

and then Dapplegrim neighed the third time; but before he could ask the lad if

he heard anything, something gave such a neigh across the heathy hill-side, the

lad thought hill and rock would surely be rent asunder.

“Now, he’s here!” said Dapplegrim; “make haste, now,

and throw the ox hides, with the spikes in them, over me, and throw down the

tar-barrel on the plain; then climb up into that great spruce-fir yonder. When

it comes fire will flash out of both nostrils, and then the tar-barrel will

catch fire. Now, mind what I say. If the flame rises, I win; if it falls, I

lose; but if you see me winning take and cast the bridle—you must take it

off me—over its head, and then it will be tame enough.”

So just as the lad had done throwing the ox hides, with the spikes, over

Dapplegrim, and had cast down the tar-barrel on the plain, and had got well up

into the spruce-fir, up galloped a horse, with fire flashing out of his

nostrils, and the flame caught the tar-barrel at once. Then Dapplegrim and the

strange horse began to fight till the stones flew heaven high. They fought and

bit, and kicked, both with fore-feet and hind-feet, and sometimes the lad could

see them, and sometimes he couldn’t; but at last the flame began to rise;

for wherever the strange horse kicked or bit, he met the spiked hides, and at

last he had to yield. When the lad saw that, he wasn’t long in getting

down from the tree, and in throwing the bridle over its head, and then it was

so tame you could hold it with a pack-thread.

And what do you think? that horse was dappled too, and so like Dapplegrim, you

couldn’t tell which was which. Then the lad bestrode the new Dapple he

had broken, and rode home to the palace, and old Dapplegrim ran loose by his

side. So when he got home, there stood the king out in the yard.

“Can you tell me now”, said the lad, “which is the horse I

have caught and broken, and which is the one I had before. If you can’t,

I think your daughter is fairly mine.”

Then the king went and looked at both Dapples, high and low, before and behind,

but there wasn’t a hair on one which wasn’t on the other as well.

“No”, said the king, “that I can’t; and since

you’ve got my daughter such a grand horse for her wedding, you shall have

her with all my heart. But still, we’ll have one trial more, just to see

whether you’re fated to have her. First, she shall hide herself twice,

and then you shall hide yourself twice. If you can find out her hiding-place,

and she can’t find out yours, why then you’re fated to have her,

and so you shall have her.”

“That’s not in the bargain either”, said the lad; “but

we must just try, since it must be so”; and so the Princess went off to

hide herself first.

So she turned herself into a duck, and lay swimming on a pond that was close to

the palace. But the lad only ran down to the stable, and asked Dapplegrim what

she had done with herself.

“Oh, you only need to take your gun”, said Dapplegrim, “and

go down to the brink of the pond, and aim at the duck which lies swimming about

there, and she’ll soon show herself.”

So the lad snatched up his gun and ran off to the pond. “I’ll just

take a pop at this duck”, he said, and began to aim at it.

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

Princess.

So he had found her once.

The second time the Princess turned herself into a loaf of bread, and laid

herself on the table among four other loaves; and so like was she to the

others, no one could say which was which.

But the lad went again down to the stable to Dapplegrim, and said how the

Princess had hidden herself again, and he couldn’t tell at all what had

become of her.

“Oh, just take and sharpen a good bread-knife”, said

Dapplegrim,” and do as if you were going to cut in two the third loaf on

the left hand of those four loaves which are lying on the dresser in the

king’s kitchen, and you’ll find her soon enough.”

Yes! the was down in the kitchen in no time, and began to sharpen the biggest

bread-knife he could lay hands on; then he caught hold of the third loaf on the

left hand, and put the knife to it, as though he was going to cut it in two.

I’ll just have a slice off this loaf”, he said,

Nay, dear friend”, said the Princess, “don’t cut. It’s

I” So he had found her twice.

Then he was to go and hide; but he and Dapplegrim had settled it all so well

beforehand, it wasn’t easy to find him. First he turned himself into a

tick, and hid himself in Dapplegrim’s left nostril; and the Princess went

about hunting him everywhere, high and low; at last she wanted to go into

Dapplegrim’s stall, but he began to bite and kick, so that she

daren’t go near him, and so she couldn’t find the lad.

“Well”, she said, “since I can’t find you, you must

show where you are yourself”; and in a trice the lad stood there on the

stable floor.

The second time Dapplegrim told him again what to do; and then he turned

himself into a clod of earth, and stuck himself between Dapple’s hoof and

shoe on the near forefoot. So the Princess hunted up and down, out and in,

everywhere; at last she came into the stable, and wanted to go into

Dapplegrim’s loose-box. This time he let her come up to him, and she

pried high and low, but under his hoofs she couldn’t come, for he stood

firm as a rock on his feet, and so she couldn’t find the lad.

“Well; you must just show yourself, for I’m sure I can’t find

you”, said the Princess, and as she spoke the lad stood by her side on

the stable floor.

“Now you are mine indeed”, said the lad; “for now you can see

I’m fated to have you.” This he said both to the father and

daughter.

“Yes; it is so fated”, said the king; “so it must be.”

Then they got ready the wedding in right down earnest, and lost no time about

it; and the lad got on Dapplegrim, and the Princess on Dapplegrim’s

match, and then you may fancy they were not long on their way to the church.

FARMER WEATHERSKY Once on a time there was a man and his wife, who had an only son, and his name

was Jack. The old dame thought it high time for her son to go out into the

world to learn a trade, and bade her husband be off with him. “But all you do”, she said, “mind you bind him to some one

who can teach him to be master above all masters”; and with that she put

some food and a roll of tobacco into a bag, and packed them off. Well! they went to many masters; but one and all said they could make the lad

as good as themselves, but better they couldn’t make him. So when the man

came home again to his wife with that answer, she said: “I don’t care what you make of him; but this I say and stick to,

you must bind him to some one where he can learn to be master above all

masters”; and with that she packed up more food and another roll of

tobacco, and father and son had to be off again. Now when they had walked a while they got upon the ice, and there they met a

man who came whisking along in a sledge, and drove a black horse. “Whither away?” said the man. “Well!” said the father, “I’m going to bind my son to

some one who is good to teach him a trade; but my old dame comes of such fine

folk, she will have him taught to be master above all masters.” “Well met then”, said the driver; “I’m just the man for

your money, for I’m looking out for such an apprentice. Up with you

behind!” he added to the lad, and whisk! off they went, both of them, and

sledge and horse, right up into the air. “Nay, nay!” cried the lad’s father, “you haven’t

told me your name, nor where you live.” “Oh!” said the master, “I’m at home alike north and

south, and east and west, and my name’s Farmer Weathersky . In a

year and a day you may come here again, and then I’ll tell you if I like

him.” So away they went through the air, and were soon out of sight. So when the man got home, his old dame asked what had become of her son. “Well”, said the man, “Heaven knows, I’m sure I

don’t. They went up aloft”; and so he told her what had happened.

But when the old dame heard that her husband couldn’t tell at all when

her son’s apprenticeship would be out, nor whither he had gone, she

packed him off again, and gave him another bag of food and another roll of

tobacco. So, when he had walked a bit, he came to a great wood, which stretched on and

on all day as he walked through it. When it got dark he saw a great light, and

he went towards it. After a long, long time he came to a little but under a

rock, and outside stood an old hag drawing water out of a well with her nose,

so long was it. “Good evening, mother!” said the man. “The same to you”, said the old hag. “It’s hundreds of

years since any one called me mother.” “Can I have lodging here to-night?” asked the man. “No! that you can’t”, said she. But then the man pulled out his roll of tobacco, lighted his pipe, and gave the

old dame a whiff, and a pinch of snuff. Then she was so happy she began to

dance for joy, and the end was, she gave the man leave to stop the night. So next morning he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky. “No! she never

heard tell of him, but she ruled over all the four-footed beasts; perhaps some

of them might know him.” So she played them all home with a pipe she had,

and asked them all, but there wasn’t one of them who knew anything about

Farmer Weathersky. “Well!” said the old hag, “there are three sisters of us;

maybe one of the other two know where he lives. I’ll lend you my horse

and sledge, and then you’ll be at her house by night; but it’s at

least three hundred miles off, the nearest way.” Then the man started off, and at night reached the house, and when he came

there, there stood another old hag before the door, drawing water out of the

well with her nose. “Good evening, mother!” said the man. “The same to you”, said she; “it’s hundreds of years

since any one called me mother.” “Can I lodge here to-night?” asked the man. “No!” said the old hag. But he took out his roll of tobacco, lighted his pipe, and gave the old dame a

whiff, and a good pinch of snuff besides, on the back of her hand. Then she was

so happy that she began to jump and dance for joy, and so the man got leave to

stay the night. When that was over, he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky.

“No! she had never heard tell of him; but she ruled all the fish in the

sea; perhaps some of them might know something about him.” So she played

them all home with a pipe she had, and asked them, but there wasn’t one

of them who knew anything about Farmer Weathersky. “Well, well!” said the old hag, “there’s one sister of

us left; maybe she knows something about him. She lives six hundred miles off,

but I’ll lend you my horse and sledge, and then you’ll get there by

nightfall.” Then the man started off, and reached the house by nightfall, and there he

found another old hag who stood before the grate, and stirred the fire with her

nose, so long and tough it was. “Good evening, mother!” said the man. “The same to you”, said the old hag; “it’s hundreds of

years since any one called me mother.” “Can I lodge here to-night?” asked the man. “No”, said the old hag. Then the man pulled out his roll of tobacco again, and lighted his pipe, and

gave the old hag such a pinch of snuff it covered the whole back of her hand.

Then she got so happy she began to dance for joy, and so the man got leave to

stay. But when the night was over, he began to ask after Farmer Weathersky. She

never heard tell of him she said; but she ruled over all the birds of the air,

and so she played them all home with a pipe she had, and when she had mustered

them all, the Eagle was missing. But a little while after he came flying home,

and when she asked him, he said he had just come straight from Farmer

Weathersky. Then the old hag said he must guide the man thither; but the eagle

said he must have something to eat first, and besides he must rest till the

next day; he was so tired with flying that long way, he could scarce rise from

the earth. So when he had eaten his fill and taken a good rest, the old hag pulled a

feather out of the Eagle’s tail, and put the man there in its stead; so

the Eagle flew off with the man, and flew, and flew, but they didn’t

reach Farmer Weathersky’s house before midnight. So when they got there, the Eagle said “There are heaps of dead bodies lying about outside but you mustn’t

mind them. Inside the house every man Jack of them are so sound asleep,

“t will be hard work to wake them; but you must go straight to the table

drawer, and take out of it three crumbs of bread, and when you hear some one

snoring loud, pull three feathers out of his head; he won’t wake for all

that.” So the man did as he was told, and after he had taken the crumbs of bread, he

pulled out the first feather. “OOF!” growled Farmer Weathersky, for it was he who snored. So the man pulled out another feather. “OOF!” he growled again. But when he pulled out the third, Farmer Weathersky roared so, the man thought

roof and wall would have flown asunder, but for all that the snorer slept on. After that the Eagle told him what he was to do. He went to the yard, and there

at the stable-door he stumbled against a big gray stone, and that he lifted up;

underneath it lay three chips of wood, and those he picked up too; then he

knocked at the stable-door, and it opened of itself. Then he threw down the

three crumbs of bread, and a hare came and ate them up; that hare he caught and

kept. After that the Eagle bade him pull three feathers out of his tail, and

put the hare, the stone, the chips, and himself there instead, and then he

would fly away home with them all. So when the Eagle had flown a long way, he lighted on a rock to rest. “Do you see anything?” it asked. “Yes”, said the man, “I see a flock of crows coming flying

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

away. After a while it asked again: “Do you see anything now?” “Yes”, said the man; “now the crows are close behind

us.” “Drop now the three feathers you pulled out of his head, said the Eagle. Well, the man dropped the feathers, and as soon as ever he dropped them they

became a flock of ravens which drove the crows home again. Then the Eagle flew

on far away with the man, and at last it lighted on another stone to rest. “Do you see anything?” it said. “I’m not sure”, said the man; “I fancy I see something

coming far far away”. “We’d better get on then”, said the Eagle; and after a while

it said again: “Do you see anything?” “Yes”, said the man, “now he’s close at our

heels.” “Now, you must let fall the chips of wood which you took from under the

gray stone at the stable door”, said the Eagle. Yes! the man let them fall, and they grew at once up into tall thick wood, so

that Farmer Weathersky had to go back home to fetch an axe to hew his way

through. While he did this, the Eagle flew ever so far, but when it got tired,

it lighted on a fir to rest. “Do you see anything?” it said. “Well! I’m not sure”, said the man; “but I fancy I

catch a glimpse of something far away.” “We’d best be off then”, said the Eagle; and off it flew as

fast as it could. After a while it said: “Do you see anything now?” “Yes! now he’s close behind us”, said the man. “Now, you must drop the big stone you lifted up at the stable

door”, said the Eagle. The man did so, and as it fell it became a great high mountain, which Farmer

Weathersky had to break his way through. When he had got half through the

mountain, he tripped and broke one of his legs, and so he had to limp home

again and patch it up. But while he was doing this, the Eagle flew away to the man’s house with

him and the hare, and as soon as they got home, the man went into the

churchyard and sprinkled Christian mould over the hare, and lo! it turned into

“Jack”, his son. Well, you may fancy the old dame was glad to get her son again, but still she

wasn’t easy in her mind about his trade, and she wouldn’t rest till

he gave her a proof that he was “master above all masters”. So when the fair came round, the lad changed himself into a bay horse, and told

his father to lead him to the fair. “Now, when any one comes”, he

said, “to buy me, you may ask a hundred dollars for me; but mind you

don’t forget to take the headstall off me; if you do, Farmer Weathersky

will keep me for ever, for he it is who will come to deal with you.” So it turned out. Up came a horse-dealer, who had a great wish to deal for the

horse, and he gave a hundred dollars down for him; but when the bargain was

struck, and Jack’s father had pocketed the money, the horse-dealer wanted

to have the headstall. “Nay, nay!” said the man,

“there’s nothing about that in the bargain; and besides, you

can’t have the headstall, for I’ve other horses at home to bring to

town to-morrow.” So each went his way; but they hadn’t gone far before Jack took his own

shape and ran away, and when his father got home, there sat Jack in the ingle. Next day he turned himself into a brown horse, and told his father to drive him

to the fair. “And when any one comes to buy me, you may ask two hundred dollars for

me—he’ll give that and treat you besides; but whatever you do, and

however much you drink, don’t forget to take the headstall off me, else

you’ll never set eyes on me again.” So all happened as he had said; the man got two hundred dollars for the horse

and a glass of drink besides, and when the buyer and seller parted, it was as

much as he could do to remember to take off the headstall. But the buyer and

the horse hadn’t got far on the road before Jack took his own shape, and

when the man got home, there sat Jack in the ingle. The third day, it was the same story over again: the lad turned himself into a

black horse, and told his father some one would come and bid three hundred

dollars for him, and fill his skin with meat and drink besides; but however

much he ate or drank, he was to mind and not forget to take the headstall off,

else he’d have to stay with Farmer Weathersky all his life long. “No, no; I’ll not forget, never fear”, said the man. So when he came to the fair, he got three hundred dollars for the horse, and as

it wasn’t to be a dry bargain, Farmer Weathersky made him drink so much

that he quite forgot to take the headstall off, and away went Farmer Weathersky

with the horse. Now when he had gone a little way, Farmer Weathersky thought he

would just stop and have another glass of brandy; so he put a barrel of red-hot

nails under his horse’s nose, and a sieve of oats under his tail, hung

the halter, upon a hook, and went into the inn. So the horse stood there and

stamped and pawed, and snorted and reared. Just then out came a lassie, who

thought it a shame to treat a horse so. “Oh, poor beastie”, she said, “what a cruel master you must

have to treat you so”, and as she said this she pulled the halter off the

hook, so that the horse might turn round and taste the oats. “I’M AFTER YOU”, roared Farmer Weathersky, who came rushing

out of the door. But the horse had already shaken off the headstall, and jumped into a

duck-pond, where he turned himself into a tiny fish. In went Farmer Weathersky

after him, and turned himself into a great pike. Then Jack turned himself into

a dove, and Farmer Weathersky made himself into a hawk, and chased and struck

at the dove. But just then a Princess stood at the window of the palace and saw

this struggle. “Ah! poor dove”, she cried, “if you only knew what I know,

you’d fly to me through this window.” So the dove came flying in through the window, and turned itself into Jack

again, who told his own tale. “Turn yourself into a gold ring, and put yourself on my finger”,

said the Princess. “Nay, nay!” said Jack, “that’ll never do, for then

Farmer Weathersky will make the king sick, and then there’ll be no one

who can make him well again till Farmer Weathersky comes and cures him, and

then, for his fee, he’ll ask for that gold ring.” “Then I’ll say I had it from my mother, and can’t part with

it”, said the Princess. Well, Jack turned himself into a gold ring, and put himself on the

Princess’ finger, and so Farmer Weathersky couldn’t get at him. But

then followed what the lad had foretold; the king fell sick, and there

wasn’t a doctor in the kingdom who could cure him till Farmer Weathersky

came, and he asked for the ring off the Princess’ finger for his fee. So

the king sent a messenger to the Princess for the ring; but the Princess said

she wouldn’t part with it, her mother had left it her. When the king

heard that, he flew into a rage, and said he would have the ring, whoever left

it to her. “Well”, said the Princess, “it’s no good being cross

about it. I can’t get it off, and if you must have the ring, you must

take my finger too.” “If you’ll let me try, I’ll soon get the ring off”,

said Farmer Weathersky. “No, thanks, I’ll try myself”, said the Princess, and flew

off to the grate and put ashes on her finger. Then the ring slipped off and was

lost among the ashes. So Farmer Weathersky turned himself into a cock, who

scratched and pecked after the ring in the grate, till he was up to the ears in

ashes. But while he was doing this, Jack turned himself into a fox, and bit off

the cock’s head; and so if the Evil One was in Farmer Weathersky, it is

all over with him now.