Complete Works of Howard Pyle

by Howard Pyle

  Oh yes; Trouble could do that well enough.

  If that was so the man would like to see him do it, that he would.

  Oh, Trouble would do that and more, too, for a friend’s asking. So he made himself small and smaller, and so crept into the cleft in the log as easily as though he had been a mouse. But, no sooner was he snugly there than the man seized his axe and knocked out the wedge, and there was Trouble as safe as safe could be. He might beg and beg, but no, the man was deaf in that ear. He shouldered his axe and off he went, leaving Trouble where he was.

  Dear me! that was a long time ago; or else some busybody must have let Trouble out of that log, for I know very well that he is stumping about the world nowadays.

  How Three Went Out into the Wide World

  There was a woman who owned a fine grey goose. “To-morrow,” said she, “I will pluck the goose for live feathers, so that I may take them to market and sell them for good hard money.”

  This the goose heard, and liked it not. “Why should I grow live feathers for other folks to pluck?” said she to herself. So off she went into the wide world with nothing upon her back but what belonged to her.

  By and by she came up with a sausage.

  “Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose.

  “Out into the wide world,” said the Sausage.

  “Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose.

  “Why should I stay at home?” said the Sausage. “They stuff me with good meat and barley-meal over yonder, but they only do it for other folk’s feasting. That is the way with the world.”

  “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “and I too am going out into the world, for why should I grow live feathers for other folk’s plucking? So let us travel together, as we are both of a mind.”

  Well, that suited the Sausage well enough, so off they went, arm in arm.

  By and by they came up with a cock.

  “Whither away, friend?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

  “Out into the wide world,” said the Cock.

  “Why do you travel that road?” said the Grey Goose and the Sausage.

  “Why should I stay at home?” said the Cock. “Every day they feed me with barley-corn, but it is only that I may split my throat in the mornings, calling the lads to the fields and the maids to the milking. That is the way with the world.”

  “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose; “why should I grow live feathers for other folk’s picking?”

  And —

  “Yes, that is true,” said the Sausage; “why should I be stuffed with meat and barley-meal for other folk’s feasting?”

  So the three being all of a mind, they settled to travel the same road together.

  Well, they went on and on and on, until, at last, they came to a deep forest, and, by and by, whom should they meet but a great red fox.

  “Whither away, friends?” said he.

  “Oh, we are going out into the wide world,” said the Grey Goose, the Sausage and the Cock.

  “And why do you travel that road?” said the Fox.

  Oh, there was nothing but tangled yarn at home: the Grey Goose grew live feathers for other folk’s picking, the Sausage was stuffed for other folk’s feasting, and the Cock crowed in the morn for other folk’s waking. That was the way of the world over yonder, and so they had left it.

  “Yes,” said the Fox, “that is true; so come with me into the deep forest, for there every one can live for himself! and nobody else.

  So they all went into the forest together, for the Fox’s words pleased them very much.

  “And now,” said the Fox to the Grey Goose, “you shall be my wife,” for he had never had a sweetheart before, and even a Grey Goose is better than none.

  “And what is to become of us?” said the Sausage and the Cock.

  “You and I shall be dear friends,” said the Great Red Fox. Thereat the Cock and the Sausage were content, for it took but little to satisfy them.

  Well, everything was just as the Great Red Fox had said it should be: The Goose kept her own feathers, the Sausage was stuffed for its own good, the Cock crowed for its own ears, and everything was as smooth as rich cream. Moreover, the Great Red Fox and the Grey Goose were husband and wife, and the Great Red Fox and the Sausage and the Cock were dear friends.

  One morning says the Great Red Fox to the Grey Goose, “Neighbor Cock makes a mighty hubbub with his crowing!”

  “Yes, that is so,” said the Grey Goose; for she always sang the same tune as the Great Red Fox, as a good wife should.

  “Then,” said the Great Red Fox, “I will go over and have a talk with him.”

  So off he packed, and by and by he came to Neighbor Cock’s house. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and who should look out of the window but the Cock himself.

  “See, Neighbor Cock,” said the Great Red Fox, “you make a mighty hubbub with that crowing of yours.”

  “That may be so, and that may not be so,” said the Cock; “all the same, the hubbub is in my own house.”

  “That is good,” said the Great Red Fox, “but one should not trouble one’s neighbors, even in one’s own house; so, if it suits you, we will have no more crowing.”

  “I was made for crowing, and crow I must,” said the Cock.

  “You must crow no more,” said the Great Red Fox.

  “I must crow,” said the Cock. And that was the last of it for — snip! — off went its head, and it crowed no more. Nevertheless, he had the last word, and that was some comfort. After that the Great Red Fox ate up the Cock, body and bones, and then he went home again.

  “Will Neighbor Cock crow again?” said the Grey Goose.

  “No; he will crow no more,” said the Fox; and that was true.

  By and by came hungry times, with little or nothing in the house to eat. “Look!” said the Great Red Fox, “yonder is Neighbor Sausage, and he has plenty.”

  “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose.

  “And one’s friend should help one when one is in need,” said the Great Red Fox.

  “Yes, that is true,” said the Grey Goose.

  So off went the Great Red Fox to Neighbor Sausage’s house. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door, and it was the Sausage himself who came.

  “See,” said the Fox, “there are hungry times over at our house.”

  “I am sorry for that,” said the Sausage; “but hungry times will come to the best of us.”

  “That is so,” said the Great Red Fox, “but, all the same, you must help me through this crack. One would be in a bad pass without a friend to turn to.”

  “But see,” said the Sausage, “all that I have is mine, and it is inside of me at that.”

  “Nevertheless, I must have some of it,” said the Great Red Fox.

  “But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

  “But I must have it,” said the Great Red Fox.

  “But you can’t have it,” said the Sausage.

  And so they talked and talked and talked, but the end came at last, for one cannot talk forever to an empty stomach. Snip! snap! and the Sausage was down the Great Red Fox’s throat, and there was an end of it. And now the Fox had all that his friend had to give him, and so he went back home again.

  “Did Neighbor Sausage give you anything?” said the Grey Goose.

  “Oh, yes; he gave me all that he had with him,” said the Great Red Fox; and that also was very true.

  After that the world went around for a while as easily as a greased wheel. But one day the Great Red Fox said to the Grey Goose: “See now, my bones grow sore by lying on the hard stones.”

  “That is a great pity,” said the Grey Goose; “and if the hard stones were only soft, I, for one, would be glad.”

  “Yes,” said the Great Red Fox, “that is good; but soft talking makes them none the easier to lie upon. Could you not spare me a few of your feathers?”

  “A few feathers indeed!” said the Grey Goose, “it was not for
this that I left the ways of the world over yonder. If you must have feathers you must pluck them from your own back.”

  “Prut!” said the Great Red Fox, “how you speak! A wife should do all that she can to make the world soft for her husband.”

  Then you should have heard the Grey Goose talk and talk. But it was no use; when times are hard with one, one’s wife should help to feather the nest — that was what the Great Red Fox said.

  Snip! snap! crunch! cranch! and off went the Grey Goose’s head. After that the Fox ate her up, body and bones, and there was an end of her. Then he lay upon soft feathers and slept easily.

  Now this is true that I tell you: when a great red fox and a grey goose marry, and hard times come, one must make it soft for the other — mostly it is the grey goose who does that.

  Also I would have you listen to this: some folks say that it is not so, but I tell you that the ways of the world are the ways of the world, even in the deep forest.

  The Clever Student and the Master of Black Arts

  The wood-chopper’s son was not content to follow in the steps of his father, and to do nothing better than make fagots all the days of his life. So off he went to the great school at the capital, and there he studied and studied until he became the cleverest student in all the world. But of this his father thought nothing, for he had no care to know more than he could see in front of his nose.

  “I can speak sixteen languages,” said the Clever Student, “I am a master-hand at geometry and astronomy, and I know quite as much of black art as the Great Master himself.”

  “But can you chop wood?” said the wood-chopper, “and can you bind the fagots?”

  No; the Clever Student knew nothing of that trade, but there were better eggs in Luck’s nest than wood-chopping. He knew enough of the black art to be able to change himself into a fine, dapple-gray nag whenever he chose, and by no more than the turning of a word or two. That he would do, and the old wood-chopper should take him to the town and sell him for fifty dollars.

  “But there is one thing you must remember,” said the Clever Student, “you must take the bridle from off my head when you sell me, for so long as it is on me I must, willy-nilly, remain a horse. The Great Master of Black Arts would like nothing better than to catch me in such a trap as that, for his books tell him that he is to have bad luck through me, and he has been after me for this many a day.”

  The wood-chopper promised to remember all that the Clever Student told him, and then the other went around back of the house and changed himself into a fine, dapple-gray horse. The wood-chopper slipped a bridle over the nag’s nose and a leg over his back, and then off he rode towards the town.

  On and on they jogged till they came to where two roads crossed, and there stood one who looked no better than he should. This was the Great Master of Black Arts himself; but of that the wood-chopper knew nothing at all.

  “How do you find yourself, friend?” said the Master of Black Arts to the wood-chopper; “that is a fine horse that you have there, to be sure. Is he for sale now?”

  “Yes,” said the wood-chopper, “the nag is for sale, and fifty dollars will buy him — only the bridle does not go along with the horse.”

  Good! The wood-chopper might keep the bridle and welcome; but palm to palm for a true sale, and here was the money.

  So they shook hands, and then the Master of Black Arts counted out the money, and the wood-chopper pocketed it, and he had never rubbed his fingers over so much in all of his life before.

  Then, as quick as a wink, the Master of Black Arts drew a bridle out of his pocket. It was thin as a wire and as light as silk, yet I tell you the truth when I say that if he had ever slipped it over the nose of the Clever Student it would have been an ill thing for him.

  But the Student had his eyes open, and his wits about him. No sooner had his father taken the bridle off of him than — whisk! pop! — he changed himself into a pigeon and away he flew till the wind whistled behind him.

  But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that, that he did. Whisk! pop! — and he became a hawk, and away he flew after the pigeon, and all that the wood-chopper could do was to stand and look after them — But he had the fifty dollars in his pocket, and that was something and more or less.

  On and on flew the two, and if the pigeon flew fast, why, the hawk flew faster.

  By and by they came to the shore of a great sea. And that was a good thing for the Clever Student, for, just as the hawk was about to grip him, he dropped to the water and became a little fish, and away he swam.

  But the Master of Black Arts knew a trick as good as that. Down to the water he dropped and became a pike, and after the little fish he swam till the water boiled behind him.

  On and on they swam, and if the little fish swam fast, why, the great pike swam faster. On and on they swam till they came to a place where a beautiful princess, as white and as red as milk and rose leaves, was walking along beside the shore gathering pretty shells into a little basket. And that was a good thing for the Clever Student, for just as the Master of Black Arts was about to catch him he changed himself into a ruby ring and jumped out of the sea and into the basket of the princess, and there he was safe and sound.

  Presently the princess looked down into the basket, and there lay the ring. “What a pretty ring!” said she. “And how came it here?”

  She slipped it upon her finger, and it fitted as though it had been made for nobody in the world but her. As for the Clever Student, he liked to be there, I can tell you, for he thought that he had never seen such a pretty lass.

  Well, by and by the princess had gathered all the shells that she wanted, and then she went back home again.

  When she had come there and to her own little room, all of a sudden a tall, good-looking young fellow stood before her. That was the Clever Student, who had changed himself back into his own true shape again. At first the princess was ever so frightened, but the Student talked to her so pleasantly that she began after a while to think that she had never seen such a nice, clever young fellow. So they passed the time very pleasantly together until evening drew near, and then the Student had to go.

  But the Master of Black Arts was not at the end of his tricks yet.

  And the Clever Student knew that as well as he knew anything.

  “See, now,” said he to the princess, “the Master will be coming after me before long. When he comes he will ask for the ruby ring, and he must have it, but I have a trick in my head to meet that.”

  He cut off a lock of his hair and then pricked his arm till it bled. With the blood he wet the hair, and by his arts he made of it a ruby ring so like what he himself had been that even the princess herself could not have told the one from the other. After that he changed himself into a necklace of carbuncles, and the princess was just as fond of it as she had been of the ring.

  Sure enough, it happened just as the Clever Student had foretold. Before a great while the Master of Black Arts came along and on his arm he carried a basket. Rap! tap! tap! he knocked at the door of the king’s house. Down went one and asked him what he wanted.

  Oh! he only wanted to see the king; he had something for him here in the basket. So he was shown up to where the king was, and then he opened the basket and in it was a little black hen.

  “Only a little black hen!” you say? Wait; you should hear all before you speak!

  The Master of Black Arts stood the little black hen on the table. “Hickety-pickety!” said he, and before the king knew what to think of it the little black hen had laid an egg all of pure silver. And that hen was worth the having.

  As for the king, bless me! but he was glad to have such a hen as that. If the master wanted anything that the king could give him, he had only to ask for it and it was as good as his.

  “So; good!” says the Black Master, “then there is a little ruby ring that the princess wears and that I have taken a fancy to; if I may have that it will be all that I ask for.”

  Oh
! if that was all that he wanted he would have it and welcome, that was what the king said. So the pretty princess was sent for, and the king asked her if she would give the Master of Black Arts the ruby ring that she wore.

  “Oh, yes!” says the princess, “he shall have that and welcome, for I have grown tired of it long ago.” So she gave it to him, and off he went on the same path that he had come.

  As soon as he had reached home, he put the ring into a mortar and ground it up until it was as fine as flour in the mill.

  “There!” said he to himself, “that is an end of the Clever Student at any rate.”

  After that he went back to his books again and began to read them, and then he soon found how he had been tricked by the Clever Student.

  The princess and the Clever Student were sitting together. “See, now,” said the Student, “the Master of Black Arts will be coming this way again in a little while. He will be wanting the necklace of carbuncles, and you will have to let him have it. But I have a trick for his trick yet, so that perhaps we will get the better of him in the end.”

  So the Clever Student did as he had done before; he pricked his arm till it bled, and with the blood he wet a lock of his hair. Then by his arts he changed the lock of hair into just such a necklace of carbuncles as he himself had been. After that he changed himself into a pearl ear-drop, and the princess hung him in her ear, and there he dangled.

  Sure enough; by and by came along the Master of Black Arts with another basket. And you may believe that they did not let him cool his toes by long standing outside the door. He opened his basket, and in it was a white drake.

  “Only a white drake!” you say? Yes, yes; but just wait for a little!

  The Master of Black Arts stood the drake on the table and said, “Spickety-lickety!”

  “Quack! quack!” said the drake, and every time it said “quack” a gold piece dropped from its mouth.