ONCE on a time there was a poor couple who lived in a wretched hut, far,
far away in the wood. How they lived I can’t tell, but I’m sure it was
from hand to mouth, and hard work even then; but they had three sons,
and the youngest of them was Boots, of course, for he did little else
than lie there and poke about in the ashes.
So one day the eldest lad said he would go out to earn his bread, and he
soon got leave, and wandered out into the world. There he walked and
walked the whole day, and when evening drew in, he came to a king’s
palace, and there stood the king out on the steps, and asked whither he
was bound.
“Oh, I’m going about, looking after a place,” said the lad.
“Will you serve me?” asked the king, “and watch my seven foals. If you
can watch them one whole day, and tell me at night what they eat and
what they drink, you shall have the Princess to wife, and half my
kingdom; but if you can’t, I’ll cut three red stripes out of your back.
Do you hear?”
Yes! that was an easy task, the lad thought, he’d do that fast enough,
never fear.
So next morning, as soon as the first peep of dawn came, the king’s
coachman let out the seven foals. Away they went and the lad after them.
You may fancy how they tore over hill and dale, through bush and bog.
When the lad had run so a long time, he began to get weary, and when he
had held on a while longer, he had more than enough of his watching, and
just there, he came to a cleft in a rock, where an old hag sat and spun
with a distaff. As soon as she saw the lad who was running after the
foals till the sweat ran down his brow, this old hag bawled out,—
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
Yes! the lad was willing enough; so he sat down in the cleft of the rock
with the old hag, and laid his head on her lap, and she combed his hair
all day whilst he lay there, and stretched his lazy bones.
So, when evening drew on, the lad wanted to go away.
“I may just as well toddle straight home now,” said he, “for it’s no use
my going back to the palace.”
“Stop a bit till it’s dark,” said the old hag, “and then the king’s
foals will pass by here again, and then you can run home with them, and
then no one will know that you have lain here all day long, instead of
watching the foals.”
So, when they came, she gave the lad a flask of water and a clod of
turf. Those he was to show to the king, and say that was what his seven
foals ate and drank.
“Have you watched true and well the whole day, now?” asked the King,
when the lad came before him in the evening.
“Yes, I should think so,” said the lad.
“Then you can tell me what my seven foals eat and drink,” said the King.
“Yes!” and so the lad pulled out the flask of water and the clod of
turf, which the old hag had given him.
“Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink,” said the lad.
But then the king saw plain enough how he had watched, and he got so
wroth, he ordered his men to chase him away home on the spot; but first
they were to cut three red stripes out of his back, and rub salt into
them. So when the lad got home again, you may fancy what a temper he was
in. He’d gone out once to get a place, he said, but he’d never do so
again.
Next day the second son said he would go out into the world to try his
luck. His father and mother said “No,” and bade him look at his
brother’s back; but the lad wouldn’t give in; he held to his own, and at
last he got leave to go, and set off. So when he had walked the whole
day, he, too, came to the king’s palace. There stood the King out on the
steps, and asked whither he was bound? and when the lad said he was
looking about for a place, the King said he might have a place there,
and watch his seven foals. But the king laid down the same punishment,
and the same reward, as he had settled for his brother. Well, the lad
was willing enough; he took the place at once with the King, for he
thought he’d soon watch the foals, and tell the king what they ate and
drank.
So, in the gray of the morning, the coachman let out the seven foals,
and off they went again over hill and dale, and the lad after them. But
the same thing happened to him as had befallen his brother. When he had
run after the foals a long long time, till he was both warm and weary,
he passed by the cleft in a rock, where an old hag sat and spun with a
distaff, and she bawled out to the lad,—
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
That the lad thought a good offer, so he let the foals run on their way,
and sat down in the cleft with the old hag. There he sat, and there he
lay, taking his ease, and stretching his lazy bones the whole day.
When the foals came back at nightfall, he too got a flask of water and
clod of turf from the old hag to show to the king. But when the king
asked the lad,—
“Can you tell me now, what my seven foals eat and drink?” and the lad
pulled out the flask and the clod, and said,—
“Here you see their meat, and here you see their drink.”
Then the king got wroth again, and ordered them to cut three red stripes
out of the lad’s back, and rub salt in, and chase him home that very
minute. And so when the lad got home, he also told how he had fared, and
said, he had gone out once to get a place, but he’d never do so any
more.
The third day Boots wanted to set out; he had a great mind to try and
watch the seven foals, he said. The others laughed at him, and made game
of him, saying,—
“When we fared so ill, you’ll do it better—a fine joke; you look like
it—you who have never done anything but lie there and poke about in the
ashes.”
“Yes!” said Boots, “I don’t see why I shouldn’t go, for I’ve got it into
my head, and can’t get it out again.”
And so, in spite of all the jeers of the others and the prayers of the
old people, there was no help for it, and Boots set out.
So after he had walked the whole day, he too came at dusk to the king’s
palace. There stood the king out on the steps, and asked whither he was
bound.
“Oh,” said Boots, “I’m going about seeing if I can hear of a place.”
“Whence do you come, then?” said the King, for he wanted to know a
little more about them before he took any one into his service.
So Boots said whence he came, and how he was brother to those two who
had watched the king’s seven foals, and ended by asking if he might try
to watch them next day.
“Oh, stuff!” said the King, for he got quite cross if he even thought of
them; “if you’re brother to those two, you’re not worth much, I’ll be
bound. I’ve had enough of such scamps.”
“Well,” said Boots; “but since I’ve come so far, I may just as well get
leave to try, I too.”
“Oh, very well; with all my heart,” said the King, “if you _will_ have
your back flayed, you’re quite welcome.”
“I’d much rather have the Princess,” said Boots.
So next morning, at gray of dawn, the coachman let out the seven foals
again, and away they went over hill and dale, through bush and bog, and
Boots behind them. And so, when he too had run a long while, he came to
the cleft in the rock, where the old hag sat, spinning at her distaft.
So she bawled out to Boots,—
“Come hither, come hither, my pretty son, and let me comb your hair.”
“Don’t you wish you may catch me,” said Boots. “Don’t you wish you may
catch me,” as he ran along, leaping and jumping, and holding on by one
of the foals’ tails. And when he had got well past the cleft in the
rock, the youngest foal said,—
“Jump up on my back, my lad, for we’ve a long way before us still.”
So Boots jumped up on his back.
So they went on, and on, a long long way.
“Do you see anything now?” said the Foal.
“No,” said Boots.
So they went on a good bit farther.
“Do you see anything now?” asked the Foal.
“Oh no,” said the lad.
So when they had gone a great, great way farther—I’m sure I can’t tell
how far—the Foal asked again,—
“Do you see anything now?”
“Yes,” said Boots; “now I see something that looks white—just like a
tall, big birch trunk.”
“Yes,” said the Foal; “we’re going into that trunk.”
So when they got to the trunk, the eldest foal took and pushed it on one
side, and then they saw a door where it had stood, and inside the door
was a little room, and in the room there was scarce anything but a
little fire-place and one or two benches; but behind the door hung a
great rusty sword and a little pitcher.
“Can you brandish the sword?” said the Foals; “try.”
So Boots tried, but he couldn’t; then they made him take a pull at the
pitcher; first once, then twice, and then thrice, and then he could
wield it like anything.
“Yes,” said the Foals, “now you may take the sword with you, and with it
you must cut off all our seven heads on your wedding-day, and then we’ll
be princes again as we were before. For we are brothers of that Princess
whom you are to have when you can tell the king what we eat and drink;
but an ugly Troll has thrown this shape over us. Now mind, when you have
hewn off our heads, to take care to lay each head at the tail of the
trunk which it belonged to before, and then the spell will have no more
power over us.”
Yes! Boots promised all that, and then on they went.