Once upon a time there was a man whose name was just Master Jacob and
nothing more.
All that Master Jacob had in the world was a good fat pig, two black
goats, a wife, and a merry temper—which was more than many a better man
than he had, for the matter of that.
“See, now,” says Master Jacob, “I will drive the fat pig to the market
to-morrow; who knows but that I might strike a bit of a sale.”
“Do,” says Master Jacob’s wife, for she was of the good sort, and always
nodded when he said “yes,” as the saying goes.
Now there were three rogues in the town over the hill, who lived in
plenty; one was the priest, one was the provost, and one was the master
mayor; and which was the greatest rogue of the three it would be a hard
matter to tell, but perhaps it was the priest.
“See, now,” says the priest to the other two, “Master Jacob, who lives
over yonder way, is going to bring his fat pig to market to-morrow. If
you have a mind for a trick, we will go snacks in what we win, and each
of us will have a rib or two of bacon hanging in the pantry, and a
string or so of sausages back in the chimney without paying so much as a
brass button for them.”
Well, of course that was a tune to which the others were willing to
dance. So the rogue of a priest told them to do thus and so, and to say
this and that, and they would cheat Master Jacob out of his good fat pig
as easily as a beggar eats buttered parsnips.
So the next morning off starts Master Jacob to the market, driving his
fat pig before him with a bit of string around the leg of it. Down he
comes into the town, and the first one whom he meets is the master
priest.
“How do you find yourself, Master Jacob?” says the priest, “and where
are you going with that fine, fat dog?”
“Dog!” says Master Jacob, opening his eyes till they were as big and as
round as saucers. “Dog! Prut! It is as fine a pig as ever came into this
town, I would have you know.”
“What!” says the priest. “Do you try to tell me that that is a pig, when
I can see with both of my ears and all of my eyes that it is a great,
fat dog?”
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.
“I say it is a dog!” says the priest.
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.
“I say it is a dog!” says the priest.
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.
Just then who should come along but the provost, with his hands in his
pockets and his pipe in his mouth, looking as high and mighty as though
he owned all of that town and the sun and the moon into the bargain.
“Look, friend,” says the priest. “We have been saying so and so and so
and so, just now. Will you tell me, _is_ that a pig, or _is_ it a dog?”
“Prut!” says the provost, “how you talk, neighbor! Do you take me for a
fool I should like to know? Why, it is as plain as the nose on your face
that it is a great, fat dog.”
“I say it is a pig!” bawled Master Jacob.
“I say it is a dog!” says the provost.
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.
“I say it is a dog!” says the provost.
“I say it is a pig!” says Master Jacob.
“Come, come,” says the priest, “let us have no high words over the
matter. No, no; we will take it to the mayor. If he says that it is a
pig we two will give you ten shillings; and if he says it is a dog, you
will give the animal to us as a penance.”
Well, Master Jacob was satisfied with that, for he was almost certain
that it was a pig. So off they marched to the mayor’s house. There the
priest told all about the matter, for he was used to talking. “And now,”
says he, “_is_ it a pig, or _is_ it a dog?”
[Illustration: Master Jacob comes to y^e town with his fine, fat pig and
there falls in with the Priest and the Provost.]
“Why,” says the mayor, “I wish I may be choked to death with a string of
sausages if it is not a dog, and a big dog and a fat dog into the
bargain.”
So there was an end of the matter, and Master Jacob had to march off
home without his pig and with no more in his pockets than he had before.
All the same, he saw what kind of trick had been played on him, and,
says he to himself, “What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander. If one can pipe another can whistle; I’ll just try a bit of a
trick myself.” So he went to his wife and told her that he had a mind to
do thus and so, and that she must do this and that; for he thought of
trying his hand at a little trickery as well as other folks.
Now, as I told you before, Master Jacob had two goats, both of them as
black as the inside of your hat at midnight; moreover, they were as like
as two spoons in the same dish; for no one could have told them apart
unless he had lived with them year in and year out, rainy weather and
clear, as Master Jacob had done.
Well, the next day Master Jacob tied a rope around the neck of one of
the goats, took down a basket from the wall, and started off to the town
over the hill, leading his goat behind him. By and by he came to the
market place and began buying many and one things, until his basket was
as full as it could hold. After a while whom should he see coming along
but the priest and the provost and the mayor, walking arm in arm as bold
as you please.
“Halloa, Master Jacob,” said they, “and what have you there?”
“The blessed saints only know that,” said Master Jacob. “It may be a
black cat for all that I know; it _was_ a black goat when I left home
this morning.”
And what was Master Jacob going to do with his little black goat? That
was what they should like to know.
“Oh,” said Master Jacob, “I am about to send my little black goat on an
errand; if you will wait you shall see for yourselves.”
Then what did he do but hang the basket around the goat’s neck. “Go home
to your mistress,” said he, “and tell her to boil the beef and cabbage
for dinner to-day; and, stop! tell her to go to Neighbor Nicholas’s
house and borrow a good big jug of beer, for I have a masterful thirst
this morning.” Then he gave the goat a slap on the back, and off it went
as though the ground were hot under it. But whether it ever really went
home or not, I never heard.
[Illustration: Master Jacob takes his black goat to town.]
As for the priest, the provost, and the mayor, you may guess how they
grinned at all of this. Good land sake’s alive! And did Master Jacob
really mean to say that the little black goat would tell the mistress
all that?
Oh, yes; that it would. It was a keen blade, that little black goat, and
if they would only come home with him, Master Jacob would show them.
So off they all went, Master Jacob and the priest and the provost and
the mayor, and after a while they came to Master Jacob’s house. Yes,
sure enough, there was a black goat feeding in the front yard, and how
should the priest and the provost and the mayor know that it was not the
same one that they had seen at the market-place! And just then out came
Master Jacob’s wife. “Come in, Jacob,” says she, “the cabbage and the
meat are all ready. As for the beer, Neighbor Nicholas had none to
spare, so I just borrowed a jugful of Neighbor Frederick, and it is as
good as the other for certain and sure.”
Dear, dear! how the three cronies did open their eyes when they heard
all of this! They would like to have such a goat as that, indeed they
would. Now, if Master Jacob had a mind to sell his goat, they would give
as much as twenty dollars for it.
Oh, no; Master Jacob could not think of selling his nice little, dear
little black goat for twenty dollars.
For thirty, then.
No; Master Jacob would not sell his goat for thirty dollars, either.
Well, they would give as much as forty.
No; forty dollars was not enough for such a goat as that.
So they bargained and bargained till the upshot of the matter was that
they paid Master Jacob fifty dollars, and marched off with the goat as
pleased as pleased could be.
Well, the three rogues were not long in finding out what a trick had
been played upon them, I can tell you. So, in a day or two, whom should
Master Jacob see coming down the road but the priest, the provost, and
the master mayor, and anybody could see with half an eye that they were
in an awful fume.
“Hi!” says Master Jacob, “there will be hot water boiling presently.” In
he went to his good wife. “Here,” says he, “take this bladder of blood
that we were going to make into pudding, and hide it under your apron,
and then when I do this and that, you do thus and so.”
Presently in came the priest, the provost, and the mayor, bubbling and
sizzling like water on slake lime. “What kind of a goat was that that
you sold us?” bawled they, as soon as they could catch their breaths.
“My black goat,” says Master Jacob.
Then look! He would run on no errands, and would do nothing that it was
told. It was of no more use about the house than five wheels to a wagon.
Now Master Jacob might just go and put his hat on and come along with
them, for they were about to take him away to prison.
“But stop a bit,” says Master Jacob. “Did you say ‘by the great horn
spoon,’ when you told the goat to do this or that?”
No; the cronies had done nothing of the kind, for Master Jacob had said
nothing about a great horn spoon when he sold them the goat.
“Why didn’t you remind me?” says Master Jacob to his good wife.
“I didn’t think of it,” says she.
“You didn’t?” says he.
“No,” says she.
“Then take that!” says he, and he out with a great sharp knife and
jabbed it into the bladder under her apron, so that the blood ran out
like everything.
“Ugh!” says the good wife, and then fell down and lay quite still, just
for all the world as though she were dead.
When the three cronies saw this, they gaped like fish out of water. Just
look now! Master Jacob had gone and killed his good wife, and all for
nothing at all. Dear, dear! what a hasty temper the man had. Now he had
gotten himself into a pretty scrape, and would have to go before the
judge and settle the business with him.
“Tut! tut!” says Master Jacob, “the broth is not all in the ashes yet.
Perhaps I am a bit hasty, but we will soon mend this stocking.”
So he went to the closet in the corner of the room, and brought out a
little tin horn. He blew a turn or two over his wife, whereat she
sneezed, and then sat up as good and as sound as ever.
As for the priest and the provost and the mayor, they thought that they
had never seen anything so wonderful in all of their lives before. They
must and would have that tin horn if it was to be had; now, how much
would Master Jacob take for it, money down?
Oh, Master Jacob did not want to part with his horn; all the same, if he
had to sell it, he would just as lief that they should buy it as
anybody. So they bargained and bargained, and the end of the matter was
that they paid down another fifty dollars and marched off with the
little tin horn, blowing away at it for dear life.
By and by they came home, and there stood the goat, nibbling at the
grass in front of the house and thinking of no harm at all. “So!” says
the provost, “was it you that would do nothing for us without our
saying, ‘By the great horn spoon?’ Take that then!” And he fetched the
goat a thwack with his heavy walking-staff so that it fell down, and lay
with no more motion than a stone. “There,” says he, “that business is
done; and now lend me the horn a minute, brother, till I fetch him back
again.”
Well, he blew and he blew, and he blew and he blew, till he was as red
in the face as a cherry, but the goat moved never so much as a single
hair. Then the priest took a turn at the horn, but he had no better luck
than the provost. Last of all the mayor had a try at it; but he might as
well have blown the horn over a lump of dough for all the answer he had
for his blowing.
Then it began to work into their heads that they had been befooled
again. Phew! what a passion they were in. I can only say that I am glad
that I was not in Master Jacob’s shoes. “We’ll put him in prison right
away,” said they, and off they went to do as they said.
But Master Jacob saw them coming down the road, and was ready for them
this time too. He took two pots and filled them with pitch, and over the
top of the pitch he spread gold and silver money, so that if you had
looked into the pots you would have thought that there was nothing in
them but what you saw on the top. Then he took the pots off into the
little woods back of the house. Now in the woods was a great deep pit,
and all around the pit grew a row of bushes, so thick that nothing was
to be seen of the mouth of the hole.
By and by came the priest and the mayor and the provost to Master
Jacob’s house, puffing and blowing and fuming.
Rap! rap! tap! they knocked at the door, but nobody was there but Master
Jacob’s wife.
Was Master Jacob at home? That was what they wanted to know, for they
had a score to settle with him.
Oh, Master Jacob’s wife did not know just where he was, but she thought
that he was in the little woods back of the house yonder, gathering
money.
Phew! and did money grow so near to the house as all that? This was a
matter to be looked into, for if money was to be gathered they must have
their share. So off they went to the woods, hot-foot.
Yes; there was Master Jacob, sure enough, and what was more, he was
carrying two pots, one on each arm.
“Hi! Master Jacob, and what have you there?” said they.
“Oh, nothing much,” says Master Jacob.
Yes; that was all very good, but they would like to look into those pots
that he was carrying; that was what the three cronies said.
[Illustration: The Priest, the Provost and the Master Mayor blow and
blow the little tin trumpet over y^e black goat. ¶]
“Well,” says Master Jacob, “you may look into the pots if you choose;
all the same, I will tell you that they are both full of pitch, and that
there is only just a little money scattered over the top.”
Yes, yes; that was all very well, but the three cronies knew the smell
of money from the smell of pitch. See now, they had been fooled twice
already, and were not to be caught again. Now, where did Master Jacob
get that money, that was what they wanted to know.
“Oh,” says Master Jacob, “I cannot tell you that; if you want to gather
money you will have to look for it yourselves. But you must not go too
near to those thick bushes yonder, for there is a deep pit hidden there,
and you will be sure to fall into it.”
When the priest and the provost and the mayor heard this, they nudged
one another with their elbows and winked with one eye. They knew how
much of that cheese to swallow. They would just take a look at this
wonderful pit, for they thought that the money was hidden in the bushes
for sure and certain. So off they went as fast as they could lay foot to
the ground.
“Just you stay here,” said the priest to the others, “while I go and see
whether there really is a pit as he said.” For he thought to himself
that he would go and gather a pocketful of the money before it would be
share and share with his comrades. So, into the thicket he jumped,
and—plump!—he fell into the great, deep pit; and there was an end of
number one.
By and by the others grew tired of tarrying. “I’ll go and see what he is
waiting for,” says the provost. For he thought to himself, “He is
filling his pockets, and I might as well have my share.” So, into the
thicket he jumped, and—plump!—he fell into the great, deep pit; and
there was an end of number two.
As for the mayor, he waited and waited. “What a fool am I,” said he at
last, “to sit here twiddling my thumbs while the two rogues yonder are
filling their pockets without me. It is little or nothing but the scraps
and the bones that I will come in for.”
So the upshot of the matter was that he too ran and jumped into the
thicket, and heels over head into the great, deep pit, and there was an
end of number three. And if Master Jacob ever helped them out, you may
depend upon it that he made them promise to behave themselves in time to
come.
[Illustration: Master Jacob with his two pots meets the three cronies in
the woods.]
And this is true that I tell you: it would have been cheaper for them to
have bought their pork in the first place, for, as it was, they paid a
pretty penny for it.
As for Master Jacob and his good wife, they had a hundred dollars in
good hard money, and if they did not get along in the world with that,
why I, for one, want nothing more to do with them.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]