Favorite Folktales From Around the World

by Jane Yolen

  The next morning when he found out what he had done, he was perfectly furious.

  “You get right out of here, Erkki!” he roared. “I never want to see you again!”

  “There now, master,” Erkki said, “you’re not going to lose your temper over a little thing like a dead wife, are you?”

  “I am so going to lose my temper!” the Devil shouted. “And what’s more, it isn’t a little thing! I liked this wife, I did, and I don’t know where I’ll get another one I like as well! So you just clear out of here and be quick about it, too!”

  “Very well, master,” Erkki said, I’ll go, but not until you pay me what you owe me.”

  “What I owe you!” bellowed the Devil. “What about all you owe me for my house and my cattle and my wife and my dear new wife and everything!”

  “You’ve lost your temper,” Erkki said, “and now you’ve got to pay me a patch of your hide big enough to sole a pair of boots. That was our bargain!”

  The Devil roared and blustered but Erkki was firm. He wouldn’t budge a step until the Devil had allowed him to slit a great patch of hide off his back.

  That piece of the Devil’s hide made the finest soles that a pair of boots ever had. It wore for years and years and years. In fact, Erkki is still tramping around on those same soles. The fame of them has spread over all the land and it has got so that now people stop Erkki on the highway to look at his wonderful boots soled with the Devil’s hide. Travelers from foreign countries are deeply interested when they hear about the boots and when they meet Erkki they question him closely.

  “Tell us,” they beg him, “how did you get the Devil’s hide in the first place?”

  Erkki always laughs and makes the same answer:

  “I got it by not losing my temper!”

  As for the Devil, he’s never again made a bargain like that with a Finn!

  HOW EL BIZARRÓN FOOLED THE DEVIL

  Cuba

  There was once a man called El Bizarrón who wandered about looking for work. A restless fellow. He wandered here. He wandered there. But more often there than here.

  One day he was told that in the house of the Devil there was need for a servant. “Pues, ten cuidado!” they warned. (A forceful way of saying, “Watch out!”) Two servants the Devil had already slain. He was a mean one. All who worked for him ended up dead. Much sooner than later, too. Clearly a recommendation to avoid that house.

  But El Bizarrón retorted, “I’m on my way. The Devil won’t frighten me.”

  So, to the Devil’s front door he went. And knocked.

  Who should open the door but the Devil himself.

  “Have you work for a strong man?”

  “Work enough for six strong men. You are sure there are not five more of you? Ah, well. Pase adentro.”

  In walked El Bizarrón. The Devil led him to the room where he was to sleep. “Rest,” he said. “Tomorrow you will begin your chores.”

  El Bizarrón stretched himself on the bed. Before long, healthy snores were livening up that corner of the house.

  The next day the Devil sent him to fetch water.

  But El Bizarrón demanded, “Give me a pick and shovel.”

  The Devil without any fuss gave them.

  El Bizarrón went down to the river. He began digging a ditch from the stream to the Devil’s house. Like six men he toiled. Well … like three anyway.

  At eleven o’clock came the Devil to check up on El Bizarrón. “Water I wish. Not a ditch. Explain yourself,” he commanded.

  “I am digging a canal to your house. Then there will be no need to go for water. Water will flow to you.”

  The Devil reflected. This man can dig. The trench is already the depth of a pitchfork. (The Devil knew his pitchforks.) Moreover, this man can think. He didn’t like that at all. It was such a distasteful thought that he went off home.

  A few days later the Devil ordered El Bizarrón to fetch a load of wood. El Bizarrón demanded, “Give me a length of rope. A long length.”

  Without much ado the Devil gave it.

  El Bizarrón took the rope on his shoulder and went off to the mountain. There he set himself to wind the rope around the trees—around the whole forest. The rope was a lengthy length all right. With all his tramping, the heels of El Bizarrón’s shoes were worn to a fraction of a millimeter; not enough sole remained to measure a fraction of anything. At eleven o’clock when the Devil came to see what El Bizarrón was up to, he found him with the rope looped around the mountain as a collar wreathes a neck.

  Of course he wanted to know, “What are you doing?”

  El Bizarrón answered, “Securing this mountain of woods so I can carry it back in one trip.”

  What a barbarian, thought the Devil. And he directed El Bizarrón to return to the house. Without the mountain. No room for that in the backyard.

  Soon after, there was a throwing contest on the beach, with metal bars. The Devil thought, ah, I shall send this strong fellow as a competitor. With his muscles he must surely win me a prize. And he led El Bizarrón to the shore, El Bizarrón with a bar balanced on his shoulder.

  At the beach everyone was practicing and preparing himself for the match. Except El Bizarrón. That one curled himself on the sunny sand and took a snooze.

  The day peeled off its hours. The contest began. Came the turn of El Bizarrón.

  Loudly he cried out, “Order those faraway boats to sail away. Otherwise I will sink them with my shot!”

  As this was impossible they would not permit him to throw. It was a disappointment to all. In particular to the Devil, who felt more and more uneasy about El Bizarrón’s strength. And his acuteness. Too dangerous is this ox with his fox’s brain, he decided. I must rid myself of him.

  The two made their way back to the Devil’s house. In a buttery manner the Devil suggested that since he desired to spend that night stretched out on the iron grill of the barbecue, El Bizarrón might wish to sleep beneath.

  “Why not?” asked El Bizarrón in an offhand way.

  So it was arranged. The Devil then hid two heavy, heavy rocks that he planned to drop on El Bizarrón during the night.

  Evening fell, and both lay down in their places: the Devil on the high grill and El Bizarrón underneath. But El Bizarrón noticed that the Devil appeared much bulkier than usual. A suspicious sign. Hmmmmmmm. Unknown to the Devil, El Bizarrón changed his bed to a corner, a far corner. And waited.

  At midnight he heard the clangor of falling rocks. At once he shouted, “Ay, what a mosquito has bitten me!”

  Naturally the Devil thought, two boulders have dropped on him and to this fellow they are no more than an insect bite. He was impressed. Disturbed. Shaken to his red marrow.

  He climbed down to note exactly El Bizarrón’s condition. This one was now sitting under the barbecue, unbruised, unscratched, unmarked. And there lay the smashed rocks.

  “Ah,” said El Bizarrón in a voice of wonder, “I believed it was a mosquito and instead it was these stones. How came they here?”

  Now the Devil’s teeth clacked with fright. Speaking between clacks he declared, “Fellow, I shall give you a burro loaded with silver if you will leave here—if you leave for a destination far, far away. Preferably the moon. Or farther.”

  El Bizarrón accepted the offer. Why not? He brought up the burro. The Devil filled the saddlebags with money, till they bulged like sacks of potatoes.

  “There you have it. Now go.”

  El Bizarrón went. After he had been gone a while, the Devil’s wife said to him, “That ninny deceived you. He is not so strong as all that.” She flung sneers against the Devil as if she were hurling stones at a stray dog.

  Her scorn convinced her husband. So, saddling a horse, he set out to find El Bizarrón and take from him the donkey and the riches.

  Looking back, El Bizarrón glimpsed the Devil approaching at a distance. Quickly he hid the donkey in a field of sugarcane. Then he lay on his back in the middle of the road with his legs in
the air.

  The Devil came up. In astonishment he asked, “And what ails you?”

  “Ah, nothing. That stubbornness of a donkey refused to walk. So I gave him a kick that sent him above the clouds …”

  The Devil, his teeth clattering again, wanted to know, “But why are you lying here kicking at the wind?”

  “I don’t want the donkey killed when he drops back to earth. This way I’ll ease his fall with my feet.”

  At that the palsy of the Devil’s teeth affected the rest of him. He might have been a flag lashed by a gale. Swiftly he spurred his horse and galloped home.

  His wife asked, “Did you catch him?”

  “Catch him! Should I want to? There he was. No sign of the burro—he had kicked it to Heaven. And if I had waited to recover the money he might have booted me to Heaven. And what place is that for the Devil? Glad am I to be free of him.”

  BEARSKIN

  Germany

  There was once a young fellow who enlisted as a soldier, conducted himself bravely, and was always the foremost when it rained bullets. So long as the war lasted all went well, but when peace was made he received his dismissal, and the captain said he might go where he liked. His parents were dead and he had no longer a home, so he went to his brothers and begged them to take him in and keep him until war broke out again.

  The brothers, however, were hard-hearted and said, “What can we do with you? You are of no use to us. Go and make a living for yourself.”

  The soldier had nothing left but his gun, so he took that on his shoulder and went forth into the world. He came to a wide heath, on which nothing was to be seen but a circle of trees; under these he sat sorrowfully down, and began to think over his fate.

  “I have no money,” thought he, “I have learned no trade but that of fighting, and now that they have made peace they don’t want me any longer. So I see beforehand that I shall have to starve.”

  All at once he heard a rustling, and when he looked round, a strange man stood before him, who wore a green coat and looked right stately, but had a hideous cloven foot. “I know already what you are in need of,” said the man. “Gold and possessions shall you have, as much as you can make away with, do what you will, but first I must know if you are fearless, that I may not bestow my money in vain.”

  “A soldier and fear—how can those two things go together?” he answered. “You can put me to the proof.”

  “Very well, then,” answered the man, “look behind you.”

  The soldier turned round, and saw a large bear, which came growling towards him. “Oho!” cried the soldier, “I will tickle your nose for you, so that you shall soon lose your fancy for growling.” and he aimed at the bear and shot it through the muzzle; it fell down and never stirred again.

  “I see quite well,” said the stranger, “that you are not wanting in courage, but there is still another condition which you will have to fulfill.”

  “If it does not endanger my salvation,” replied the soldier, who knew very well who was standing by him. “If it does, I’ll have nothing to do with it.”

  “You will look to that for yourself,” answered Greencoat. “You shall for the next seven years neither wash yourself, nor comb your beard nor your hair, nor cut your nails, nor once say the Lord’s Prayer. I will give you a coat and a cloak, which during this time you must wear. If you die during these seven years, you are mine; if you remain alive, you are free, and rich to boot, for all the rest of your life.”

  The soldier thought of the great extremity in which he now found himself, and as often had gone to meet death, he resolved to risk it now also, and agreed to the terms. The Devil took off his green coat and gave it to the soldier, and said, “If you have this coat on your back and put your hand into the pocket, you will always find it full of money.” Then he pulled the skin off the bear and said; “This shall be your cloak, and your bed also, for thereon shall you sleep, and in no other bed shall you lie, and because of this apparel shall you be called Bearskin.” Whereupon the Devil vanished.

  The soldier put the coat on, felt at once in the pocket, and found that the thing was really true. Then he put on the bearskin and went forth into the world, and enjoyed himself, refraining from nothing that did him good and his money harm. During the first year his appearance was passable, but during the second he began to look like a monster. His hair covered nearly the whole of his face, his beard was like a piece of coarse felt, his fingers had claws, and his face was so covered with dirt that if cress had been sown on it, it would have come up. Whosoever saw him ran away, but as he everywhere gave the poor money to pray that he might not die during the seven years, and as he paid well for everything, he still always found shelter. In the fourth year, he entered an inn where the landlord would not receive him, and would not even let him have a place in the stable, because he was afraid the horses would be scared. But as Bearskin thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of ducats, the host let himself be persuaded and gave him a room in an outhouse. Bearskin, however, was obliged to promise not to let himself be seen, lest the inn should get a bad name.

  As Bearskin was sitting alone in the evening, and wishing from the bottom of his heart that the seven years were over, he heard a loud lamenting in a neighboring room. He had a compassionate heart, so he opened the door, and saw an old man weeping bitterly and wringing his hands. Bearskin went nearer, but the man sprang to his feet and tried to escape from him.

  At last, when the man perceived that Bearskin’s voice was human, he let himself be prevailed upon, and by kind words Bearskin succeeded so far that the old man revealed the cause of his grief. His property had dwindled away by degrees, he and his daughters would have to starve, and he was so poor that he could not pay the innkeeper and was to be put in prison.

  “If that is your only trouble,” said Bearskin, “I have plenty of money.” He caused the innkeeper to be brought thither, paid him, and even put a purse full of gold into the poor old man’s pocket.

  When the old man saw himself set free from all his troubles, he did not know how to show his gratitude. “Come with me,” said he to Bearskin. “My daughters are all miracles of beauty; choose one of them for yourself as a wife. When she hears what you have done for me, she will not refuse you. You do in truth look a little strange, but she will soon put you to rights again.”

  This pleased Bearskin well, and he went.

  When the eldest saw him she was so terribly alarmed at his face that she screamed and ran away. The second stood still and looked at him from head to foot, but then she said,” How can I accept a husband who no longer has a human form? The shaven bear that once was here and passed itself off for a man pleased me far better, for at any rate it wore a hussar’s dress and white gloves. If he were only ugly, I might get used to that.” The youngest, however said, “Dear Father, that must be a good man to have helped you out of your trouble, so if you have promised him a bride for doing it, your promise must be kept.”

  It was a pity that Bearskin’s face was covered with dirt and with hair, for if not they might have seen how delighted he was when he heard these words. He took a ring from his finger, broke it in two, and gave her half; the other he kept for himself. Then he wrote his name on her half, and hers on his, and begged her to keep her piece carefully. Then he took his leave and said, “I must still wander about for three years, and if I do not return then, you are free, for I shall be dead. But pray to God to preserve my life.”

  The poor betrothed bride dressed herself entirely in black, and when she thought of her future bridegroom, tears came into her eyes. Nothing but contempt and mockery fell to her lot from her sisters.

  “Take care,” said the eldest, “if you give him your hand, he will strike his claws into it.”

  “Beware!” said the second. “Bears like sweet things, and if he takes a fancy to you, he will eat you up.”

  “You must always do as he likes,” began the elder again, “or else he will growl.” And the second co
ntinued, “But the wedding will be a merry one, for bears dance well.”

  The bride was silent, and did not let them vex her.

  Bearskin, however, traveled about the world from one place to another, did good where he was able, and gave generously to the poor that they might pray for him.

  At length, as the last day of the seven years dawned, he went once more out onto the heath and seated himself beneath the circle of trees. It was not long before the wind whistled, and the Devil stood before him and looked angrily at him: then he threw Bearskin his old coat and asked for his own green one back.

  “We have not got so far as that yet,” answered Bearskin. “You must first make me clean.” Whether the Devil liked it or not, he was forced to fetch water and wash Bearskin, comb his hair, and cut his nails. After this, he looked like a brave soldier, and was much handsomer than he had ever been before.

  When the Devil had gone away, Bearskin was quite lighthearted. He went into the town, put on a magnificent velvet coat, seated himself in a carriage drawn by four white horses, and drove to his bride’s house. No one recognized him. The father took him for a distinguished general, and led him into the room where his daughters were sitting. He was forced to place himself between the two eldest, who helped him to wine, gave him the best pieces of meat, and thought that in all the world they had never seen a handsomer man. The bride, however, sat opposite to him in her black dress, and never raised her eyes nor spoke a word.

  When at length he asked the father if he would give him one of his daughters to wife, the two eldest jumped up and ran into their bedrooms to put on splendid dresses, for each of them fancied she was the chosen one.

  The stranger, as soon as he was alone with his bride, brought out his half of the ring, and threw it in a glass of wine which he handed across the table to her. She took the wine, but when she had drunk it, and found the half ring lying at the bottom, her heart began to beat. She got the other half, which she wore on a ribbon round her neck, joined them, and saw that the two pieces fitted together exactly.