SATURDAY AFTERNOON
It was Saturday afternoon, and the little boy had been with his
mother to the village vapor-bath. After that he had been dressed in
his Sunday clothes. His white shirt, which he called his roubachka,
hung outside of his best portki, or loose, colored trousers. His legs
were wound round with many bands of colored cloth, called onontchi,
and on his feet he wore bachmaki, or shoes. When he grew to be a man he
would wear very high, large-topped sapoghi, with his trousers tucked
into them, like his father, and then he would not need onontchi on
his legs. But he was only a little boy yet.
The popod'ya had come to call on his mother. She was the priest's
wife, and was very old, and the little boy did not care for what
she and his mother were talking about. So he stole away into his
grandmother's room. The grandmother was kneeling before the ikon,
the sacred picture of the Virgin and Child, which hung on the wall
with a tiny lamp lighted before it. The little boy would not disturb
his grandmother while she was saying her Saturday evening prayer, but
he hoped she would not be long. Perhaps she was almost through, for
presently she rose from her knees, lifting herself by her stick. The
little boy ran to help her, and led her to the stove. She sat down
upon it, for her knees were cold from the clay floor, and the little
boy climbed up beside her.
"Now the work is all done, little grandma," he said, putting his
hands on either side of her face, "and you can tell me a long story,
can't you?"
"Hum, hum!" said the grandmother, pretending to look cross. "Why
should I tell you a long story?"
"Oh, because I have my Sunday clothes on, and must not play in the
dirt!" replied the little boy. "Don't you know a long story, grandma?"
"Would you like to hear about
"WHITELING'S WAR WITH ISEGRIM?"
asked the Báby.
"Yes, indeed, that I should!" cried the little boy.
So the grandmother began:
Once upon a time there was a moujik who had a perfectly white Dog,
which he called Whiteling. Now Whiteling had struck up a great
friendship with Isegrim, the Wolf, and one day each made a solemn
compact never to betray the other in any of their stealings.
Not long after, Isegrim said to Whiteling one day, "I intend to make
a call upon your master's swine to-night; so do you keep no watch,
but just lie as still as possible, and don't wake up the whole family
with your barking, as you usually do, for you know that they will
move heaven and earth to capture me."
"Kill all the swine, if you like," replied Whiteling; "I won't
betray you."
"A word is enough, brother; I shall be there," said Isegrim; and so
the friends parted.
Punctually at nightfall Isegrim appeared and greeted Whiteling
heartily, saying, "I gave you my word, and as you see, here I am."
"Get to work, then," replied Whiteling; "you have nothing to fear
from me."
Isegrim crept cautiously to the swine-pen. He had all the work in
the world to get in, and once in, he had hardly begun his meal when
the swine broke out in fearful squealings and gruntings. Whiteling,
at the house-door, no sooner heard the noise than he began to bark
and whine with all his might, waking all the family with his noise.
"What makes our Whiteling howl so?" they said. "We must go out and
see what the trouble is."
So all the family went out, and hearing the squealing of the swine,
they hastened to the pigpen. Peeping in, they saw the Wolf and set
upon him with clubs and fists, belaboring him so soundly that he
barely escaped with a whole skin.
Waiting till the family had returned to bed, Isegrim crept back,
and seizing Whiteling by the throat, "Aha!" he cried, "I have caught
you now. You pledged me your word not to bark, and you broke your
promise. No, I'll never forgive you. Just look at me once, what a
plight I'm in."
Whiteling began to beg. "Ah, let me go, let me go, dear, sweet brother
Isegrim; forgive me just this once; I'll never do it again; come
again and steal whenever you like; you may be perfectly sure of me!"
"Will you ever play me another such trick?" asked Isegrim.
"Never, never again!" said Whiteling.
"Very well, then," said the Wolf, "you may go free this once; but
next time, remember, hold your tongue!"
A few days later Isegrim paid the swine a second visit, but he had
hardly crept into the pen when Whiteling set up a howl so loud and
clear that all the household sprang out of bed to see what was the
matter. A second time they found the Wolf, fell upon him, and beat
him half-dead. The unlucky visitor barely escaped with his life, and
full of wrath, he hid behind the hedge and waited till the household
were asleep. Then, seeing Whiteling before the house-door, he cried to
him, "Just wait once, Whiteling; your last half-hour strikes when you
fall into my clutches! If you weren't just where you are, safe at the
house-door, I'd soon pay you off; but my time will come before long."
Again Whiteling began to beg. "Dearest Isegrim, it is indeed true
that I have brought you into a terrible pickle, but don't kill me;
let me go this time. I'll never do it again."
But the Wolf replied, "Neither now nor ever; you cheated me out of
that meal of swine's flesh, and three days from now you must meet me
in battle. I will summon my forces, and do you summon yours--that is,
if you can muster any. If you don't show up, I'll soon know where to
find you, and I'll drag you there myself!"
"All right," returned Whiteling, "come what may, I'll be there
without fail."
So Isegrim hastened away to get his troops together, and meeting the
Wild Boar he said to him, "Will you be on my side? There is going to
be war between me and Whiteling three days from now."
"Oh," replied the Wild Boar, "indeed I will be on your side!"
A little farther Isegrim met Master Petz, the Bear, told him the
whole matter, and begged him to be on his side. Petz most cheerfully
promised his help.
Later, he met Reinecke, the Fox, and told him the whole story. Reinecke
assured him that he might certainly count upon his help--how could
he ever hesitate to stand by his old crony against the common enemy?
Then said Isegrim, "Now we are quite enough; but I must spy out
Whiteling and learn what forces he has. Then I will let you know that
we are all ready for war."
Isegrim betook himself to Whiteling's house, and standing in the lane
looked over the hedge. "Are you ready, Whiteling?" he asked. "To-morrow
is the day."
"I shall be ready," replied Whiteling in a tone of deepest dejection;
"but tell me precisely, where is the battle to be?"
"You know very well," replied Isegrim; "yonder, under the tree we
agreed upon."
"Very well," said the Dog, and slunk sorrowfully away to the other
side of the farm-yard. There the Tomcat met him and said, "Why,
my dear Whiteling, what can be the matter, what makes you so sad?"
And Whiteling answered, "My dear Grimalkin, you don't know where the
shoe pinches. Will you come to my aid?"
"Why, what are you talking about?" asked the surprised Cat.
"Just think of it," replied the Dog, "to-morrow I have to fight
Isegrim; we have declared war to the knife."
"Oh, oh, my Whiteling, cheer up! I'll stand by you to the death. Just
you go to friend Quacker, the Drake, and engage his help."
With a lighter heart Whiteling sought friend Quacker and begged his
friendly aid.
"To be sure, to be sure; I am your comrade. Why should I leave a
friend in the lurch? Go to friend Ganner, the Gander, and ask him if
he feels like having a part in the war."
So said and so done. Whiteling found the Gander, explained the affair
and begged for his help. "Of course, why should I not be ready to
help? Aren't you our guard every night to keep Reinecke from making
off with us?"
"Now," said Whiteling, "I think we are strong enough."
Early next morning Isegrim met his allies upon the battle-field under
the appointed tree. He hid the Wild Boar beneath a thick bed of moss
which grew upon the ground, and bade Reinecke climb into the tree,
saying, "You must be our sentinel, Master. Keep watch when Whiteling
appears with his troop, and give us secret intelligence. You, too,
Petz, must scramble up the tree, but I will crouch down in ambush
behind the trunk."
Meanwhile Whiteling was also disposing his forces. "Grimalkin and
Ganner, you are the infantry. I see that your weapon is ready,
Grimalkin" (for Grimalkin held his tail upright, by way of musket);
"and you, Ganner, must hiss your very best. Quacker, you shall be the
drummer. I reserve to myself the command. March according to orders,
and fall to when I give the word."
So Whiteling and his comrades went gayly to the battle--Whiteling
and his drummer in front, Grimalkin and Ganner bringing up the
rear. Quacker drummed his prettiest--"Quack-quack, quack-quack,
quack-quack!" The Gander hissed and the Tomcat strutted along in
dignified silence, carrying his tail straight upright like a musket.
When Reinecke perceived the approaching company he cried to Isegrim,
"Cousin, cousin, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain!"
"What's that you say?" asked Isegrim in dismay.
"I say, here come two soldiers with a drummer and a captain," replied
Reinecke. "The soldier is loading his gun, he takes aim, he is about
to fire----"
"Alas! woe be to us poor fellows," moaned the Wild Boar from under
the moss. "It's all over with us! We fight with unequal forces!"
"Courage, courage, fellows," cried Isegrim, trying to rally his troops;
"just bear yourselves bravely; all is not lost; we'll make short work
of them yet!"
In the midst of all this confusion Whiteling and his troops reached
the spot unperceived. Grimalkin, catching a glimpse of the Wild Boar's
ear sticking out of the moss, took it for a mouse, and springing
upon it, bit into it with his sharp teeth. The Wild Boar sprang
up in terror and took wildly to flight, while Grimalkin, no less
terrified, scrambled frantically up the tree into the very face of
Master Petz. The Bear, not prepared for this unexpected encounter,
lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, half-killing himself by
the fall. More frightened than ever, the Tomcat scrambled blindly up
to the tree-top.
"Now, it's my turn," thought Reinecke to himself, and immediately
tumbled down in affright. Grimalkin tumbled after, while the Drake
kept drumming, "Quack-quack, quack-quack, quack-quack," and Ganner
hissed with all his might. Thus was Isegrim's host ignominiously
routed. The Wolf himself, however, still cowered behind the tree,
his head buried in the moss.
When the besiegers had withdrawn, Isegrim's scattered forces drew
together and began to count their honorable scars. Said Master Petz,
"More dead than alive from my heavy fall, I barely managed to make
my escape."
"A piece of my ear is gone," said the Boar. "He cut it off with
his sword."
"Let us be thankful, fellows," concluded Reinecke, "that we are no
worse off, for if they had been able to fire off one more cannon we
should have been hopelessly lost!"
"I wish I knew that Dog," said the little boy. "I think he is wiser
than our Watch."
"The beasts were wiser those days," replied the grandmother. "That
was my great-great-grandmother's time."