Once on a time there was a man, who had to drive his sledge to the wood
for fuel. So a Bear met him.
“Out with your horse”, said the Bear, “or I’ll strike all your sheep
dead by summer.”
“Oh! heaven help me then”, said the man; “there’s not a stick of
firewood in the house; you must let me drive home a load of fuel, else
we shall be frozen to death. I’ll bring the horse to you to-morrow
morning.”
Yes! on those terms he might drive the wood home, that was a bargain;
but Bruin said, “if he didn’t come back, he should lose all his sheep
by summer”.
So the man got the wood on the sledge and rattled homewards, but he
wasn’t over pleased at the bargain you may fancy. So just then a Fox
met him.
“Why, what’s the matter?” said the Fox; “why are you so down in the
mouth?”
“Oh, if you want to know”, said the man; “I met a Bear up yonder in the
wood, and I had to give my word to him to bring Dobbin back to-morrow,
at this very hour; for if he didn’t get him, he said he would tear all
my sheep to death by summer.”
“Stuff, nothing worse than that”, said the Fox; “if you’ll give me your
fattest wether, I’ll soon set you free; see if I don’t.”
Yes! the man gave his word, and swore he would keep it too.
“Well, when you come with Dobbin to-morrow for the bear”, said the Fox,
“I’ll make a clatter up in that heap of stones yonder, and so when the
bear asks what that noise is, you must say ’tis Peter the Marksman, who
is the best shot in the world; and after that you must help yourself.”
Next day off set the man, and when he met the Bear, something began to
make a clatter up in the heap of stones.
“Hist! what’s that?” said the Bear.
“Oh! that’s Peter the Marksman, to be sure”, said the than; “he’s the
best shot in the world. I know him by his voice.”
“Have you seen any bears about here, Eric?” shouted out a voice in the
wood.
“Say, no!” said the Bear.
“No, I haven’t seen any”, said Eric.
“What’s that then, that stands alongside your sledge?” bawled out the
voice in the wood.
“Say it’s an old fir-stump”, said the Bear.
“Oh, it’s only an old fir-stump”, said the man.
“Such fir-stumps we take in our country and roll them on our sledges”,
bawled out the voice; “if you can’t do it yourself, I’ll come and help
you.”
“Say you can help yourself, and roll me up on the sledge”, said the
Bear.
“No, thank ye, I can help myself well enough”, said the man, and rolled
the Bear on to the sledge.
“Such fir-stumps we always bind fast on our sledges in our part of the
world”, bawled out the voice; “shall I come and help you?”
“Say you can help yourself, and bind me fast, do”, said the Bear.
“No, thanks, I can help myself well enough”, said the man, who set to
binding Bruin fast with all the ropes he had, so that at last the bear
couldn’t stir a paw.
“Such fir-stumps we always drive our axes into, in our part of the
world”, bawled out the voice; “for then we guide them better going down
the steep pitches.”
“Pretend to drive your axe into me, do now”, said the bear. Then the
man took up his axe, and at one blow split the bear’s skull, so that
Bruin lay dead in a trice, and so the man and the Fox were great
friends, and on the best terms. But when they came near the farm, the
Fox said:
“I’ve no mind to go right home with you, for I can’t say I like your
tykes; so I’ll just wait here, and you can bring the wether to me, but
mind and pick out one nice and fat.”
Yes! the man would be sure to do that, and thanked the Fox much for his
help. So when he had put up Dobbin, he went across to the sheep-stall.
“Whither away, now?” asked his old dame.
“Oh!” said the man, “I’m only going to the sheep-stall to fetch a fat
wether for that cunning Fox, who set our Dobbin free. I gave him my
word I would.”
“Whither, indeed”, said the old dame; “never a one shall that thief of
a Fox get. Haven’t we got Dobbin safe, and the bear into the bargain;
and as for the Fox, I’ll be bound he’s stolen more of our geese than
the wether is worth; and even if he hasn’t stolen them, he will. No,
no; take a brace of your swiftest hounds in a sack, and slip them loose
after him; and then, perhaps, we shall be rid of this robbing Reynard.”
Well, the man thought that good advice; so he took two fleet red
hounds, put them into a sack, and set off with them.
“Have you brought the wether?” said the Fox.
“Yes, come and take it”, said the man, as he untied the sack and let
slip the hounds.
“HUF”, said the Fox, and gave a great spring; “true it is what the old
saw says, ‘Well done is often ill paid’; and now, too, I see the truth
of another saying, ‘The worst foes are those of one’s own house.’” That
was what the Fox said as he ran off, and saw the red foxy hounds at his
heels.