It was the middle of winter and the ground was covered with snow. Along
the high road came Mynheer Van Ash, the well-known merchant of Alost,
driving to the town with two immense casks of the liquor known as
Hollands, in which he traded. All unknown to the merchant, one of the
casks had a hole in it, and as he drove along the liquor leaked out,
and sank into the snow.
In a field close by the roadside were a flock of fifty rooks, who
were eagerly turning up the snow and pecking at the ground beneath in
search of food. Attracted by the strong and heady smell of the spilt
liquor, they flew across to investigate, and having tasted some of the
gin-sodden snow, liked it so well that they followed in the train of
the cart, eating more and more of it, until at last they were so drunk
that they could hardly stand on their feet. Away they went to the
fields again, and very soon afterwards the whole flock of them was fast
asleep.
Presently, Little Pol, a peasant who worked in the neighbourhood,
happened to cross the field on his way homeward, and saw the crows
lying stiff and silent on the snow.
"Ah!" said he to himself. "Here is a funny sight! Fifty crows frozen
to death with the cold. I'll take them home with me and pluck them.
Rook-pie is excellent eating, and such a find is welcome these hard
times!" So, taking a cord from his pocket, he set to work to gather
up all the rooks, and tie them together by the legs. This done, he
proceeded on his way, dragging the rooks behind him.
The roughness of the motion and the friction of the snow very soon
aroused the rooks from their slumber. They all woke up, and finding
their legs tied, began to flap their wings together with admirable
precision. Unfortunately for Little Pol, he had taken the precaution
of fastening the cord to the belt round his middle, so when the fifty
rooks began to fly he could not get free, and found himself being
lifted into the air.
Up went the fifty rooks cawing and crying, and up too went Little Pol,
calling in vain for help. They reached the clouds; they penetrated the
clouds; they disappeared from sight.
And since that day not a sign has ever been seen either of the fifty
rooks or of Little Pol.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE BATTLE OF THE BIRDS AND BEASTS]
[Illustration: FIGHTING]