Bluebeard Part 3

All Tom's work was done by Yallery Brown, and better done than Tom himself could do it. No matter how much the master gave Tom to do, he could sit down at his ease while the work did itself. The hoe, or broom, or whatever it was would get into motion with no visible hand put to it and would finish the task in no time.

Yallery Brown kept out of sight during the day, but in the gray twilight, after the sun had gone down, Tom often saw the tiny creature hopping around like a Will-of-the-Wisp without a lantern.

At first Tom found it mighty fine to be relieved of his work. He had naught to do and good pay for it; but by and by things began to go wrong. His work continued to be done, but the work of the other lads was all undone. If his buckets were filled theirs were upset; if his tools were sharpened theirs were blunted and spoiled; if his horses were made as clean as daisies, theirs were splashed with muck, and so on.

Day in and day out it was the same. Naturally the lads began to have hard feelings toward Tom, and they would not speak to him or go near him, and they carried tales to the master. So things went from bad to worse.

Tom could not work even if he wished to; the spade would not stay in his hand, the scythe escaped from his grip, and the plow ran away from him.

More than once he tried his best to do his tasks so that Yallery Brown would leave him and his fellow laborers alone. But he couldn't, and he was compelled to sit by and look on and have the cold shoulder turned on him while the uncanny thing was meddling with the others and working for him.

At last matters got so bad that the master would keep Tom no longer, and if he had not discharged him the other lads would have left. They swore they would not stay on the same farm with him. Tom felt badly, for it was a good place; and he was very angry with Yallery Brown who had got him into such trouble.

So he shook his fist in the air and shouted as loud as he could, "Yallery Brown, come from the earth, you scamp, I want you!"

Hardly had the words left his lips when he felt something tweaking his leg behind, and he was pinched so hard that he jumped with the smart of it. He looked down and there was Yallery Brown with his s.h.i.+ning hair and wrinkled face, and wicked glinting black eyes.

Tom was in a fine rage, and he would have liked to kick the ugly creature, but he restrained himself and said, "Look here, master, I'll thank you to leave me alone after this. Do you hear? I want none of your help, and I'll have nothing more to do with you."

The horrid thing broke into a screeching laugh, and pointed its brown finger at Tom. "Ho, ho, Tom!" it said, "you have thanked me, my lad, and I told you not to do so."

"But I don't want your help," Tom yelled. "I only want never to see you again, and to have nothing more to do with you. Now go."

The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked as long as Tom went on berating it, but as soon as his breath gave out it said with a grin: "Tom, my lad, I'll tell you something. Truly, I'll never help you again, and even if you call me you will not see me after today. But I never agreed to let you alone, and that I shall not do, my lad. I was where I could do no harm under that stone, Tom, and you let me out. If you had been wise I would have been your friend and worked for you, but I am your friend no longer, and in the future when everything goes crooked you can know that it is Yallery Brown's doing. Mark my words, will you?"

Then it began to sing and curse and call down misfortunes on him, and it danced round Tom with its yellow hair and beard all flying and a savage scowl on its wrinkled bit of a face. Tom could only stand there shaking all over and staring down at the gruesome thing until at last it rose in the air and floated away on the wind over a wall out of sight with a parting shriek of cunning laughter.

In the days and weeks and years that followed Tom worked here and he worked there, and turned his hand to this and to that, but whatever he did always went wrong. There was no end to Yallery Brown's spite even until Tom's life ended.

VII--THE LITTLE JACKAL

Once upon a time a little jackal lived near the bank of a great river.

Every day he went down to the water to catch the crabs that were there.

Not far away, in the same river, dwelt a cruel alligator. He saw the little jackal come down to the water every day, and he thought, "What a nice tender morsel that little jackal would make if I could only catch him!"

One day the alligator hid in the mud, where the water was shallow near sh.o.r.e. Only the tip of his nose stuck out, and that looked very much like the back of a crab.

Soon the little jackal came running along the bank of the river seeking his usual food. When he saw the end of the alligator's nose he thought he had found a fine big crab, and he put in his paw to scoop it out of the mud.

The moment he did that, snap! the teeth of the alligator came together, and the jackal was caught by the paw. He was terribly frightened, for he knew the alligator intended to pull him into the river and eat him.

However, he began to laugh, though the alligator's teeth hurt him sadly.

"Oh, you stupid old alligator!" he said. "You thought you would catch my paw, and instead caught a bulrush root that I stuck down in the water to tickle your nose. Ha, ha! you silly, silly alligator."

"Well, well," the alligator thought, "I am very much disappointed. I certainly supposed I had caught that little jackal. But it seems I have nipped nothing except a bulrush root. There is no use of holding on to that." So he opened his mouth.

Then the little jackal s.n.a.t.c.hed out his paw. "O stupid one!" he cried, "you really had caught me, and now you have let me go. Ha, ha!

ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! You'll never catch me again." So saying, off he ran up the bank and into the jungle.

The alligator was furiously angry. "I was tricked by the little rascal that time," he said, "but if I get hold of him again he will not escape so easily."

Once more the alligator hid in the mud and waited. But the little jackal came no more to the river. He was afraid, and he stayed in the woods living on figs that he gathered under a wild fig tree.

Day after day pa.s.sed and it became plain to the alligator that the little jackal was avoiding the river. So early one morning he crawled out of the water and dragged himself to the wild fig tree. There he gathered together a great heap of figs and hid under them.

Shortly afterward the jackal came running to the fig tree, licking his lips, for he was very hungry. At sight of the great heap of figs he was delighted. "Now I will not have the trouble of picking up the figs scattered about on the ground," he said. "Somebody has piled them up all ready for me. How nice!"

But when he went nearer he became suspicious, and thought, "It looks as though something might be hidden under those figs."

Then he cried out: "What is the matter here? Usually, when I come to the fig tree, all the figs that are any good roll about in the wind. Those figs in the pile lie so still that I doubt if they are fit to eat. I will have to go to some other place to get good figs."

The jackal's words made the alligator fear that he had failed again, and he thought: "This little jackal is very particular. I will just shake myself and make the figs roll about a trifle. Then he will come near enough for me to grab him."

So the alligator shook himself, and away rolled the figs in all directions.

"Oh, you stupid old alligator!" the jackal shouted; "if you had stayed still you might have caught me. Ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! Thank you for shaking yourself and letting me know you were there!" Then away he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

The alligator gnashed his teeth with rage. "Never mind! I will catch this little jackal yet," he declared, and he hid in the tall gra.s.s beside the path that led to the fig tree.

He waited there for several days, but he saw nothing of his intended victim. The jackal was afraid to come to the fig tree any more. He stayed in the jungle and fed on such roots and berries as he could find there, but found so little that he grew thin and miserable.

One morning the alligator made his way to the jackal's house while the jackal was away. He squeezed in through the narrow doorway and hid under the heap of dead leaves that was the jackal's bed.

Toward evening the little jackal came running home. He was very hungry, for he had found scarcely anything to eat all day, and he was very tired too. Just as he was about to go in and lie down on his bed he noticed that the sides of the doorway were sc.r.a.ped and broken as if some big animal had forced its way through.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _The Alligator Goes to the Jackal's House_]

The little jackal was terribly frightened. He thought, "Is it possible that the wicked alligator has come to hunt for me here in my own house and is waiting inside to catch me?"

Then he called loudly: "What is the matter, house of mine? Every day when I come home you say, 'All is well, little jackal,' but today you say nothing, and I am afraid to come in."

Of course the house did not really speak to him, but he wanted to find out if the alligator was there, and the alligator believed his words.

The stupid creature thought, "I shall have to speak just as the house would speak or this tiresome little jackal will not come in."

He made his voice as small and soft as he could, and said, "All is well, little jackal."

Then the jackal knew that the alligator was in his house, and he was more scared than ever. However, he contrived to respond in a cheerful voice: "All right, little house! I will come in as soon as I have been to the brook for a drink of water."

When the alligator heard these words he was filled with joy. He lay quite still under the leaves thinking: "Now I will have that little jackal at last. This time he shall not escape me."

But while he waited, the jackal gathered together a great heap of dead wood and brush and piled it against the door of the house. When it was big enough, the jackal set fire to the heap. It blazed up with a great noise, and the wicked alligator was burned to death.

Then the little jackal danced about singing:

"The alligator's dead, and I am glad!