“March with all speed to the charcoal-burner, and demand my
wishing-cloth back.” They faced to the left, and it was not long before
they brought what he required, and had taken it from the
charcoal-burner without asking many questions. The young man bade them
retire, went onwards, and hoped fortune would shine yet more brightly
on him. By sunset he came to another charcoal-burner, who was making
his supper ready by the fire. “If thou wilt eat some potatoes with
salt, but with no dripping, come and sit down with me,” said the sooty
fellow.
“No, he replied, this time thou shalt be my guest,” and he spread out
his cloth, which was instantly covered with the most beautiful dishes.
They ate and drank together, and enjoyed themselves heartily. After the
meal was over, the charcoal-burner said, “Up there on that shelf lies a
little old worn-out hat which has strange properties: when any one puts
it on, and turns it round on his head, the cannons go off as if twelve
were fired all together, and they shoot down everything so that no one
can withstand them. The hat is of no use to me, and I will willingly
give it for thy table-cloth.”
“That suits me very well,” he answered, took the hat, put it on, and
left his table-cloth behind him. Hardly, however, had he walked away
than he tapped on his knapsack, and his soldiers had to fetch the cloth
back again. “One thing comes on the top of another,” thought he, “and I
feel as if my luck had not yet come to an end.” Neither had his
thoughts deceived him. After he had walked on for the whole of one day,
he came to a third charcoal-burner, who like the previous ones, invited
him to potatoes without dripping. But he let him also dine with him
from his wishing-cloth, and the charcoal-burner liked it so well, that
at last he offered him a horn for it, which had very different
properties from those of the hat. When any one blew it all the walls
and fortifications fell down, and all towns and villages became ruins.
He certainly gave the charcoal-burner the cloth for it, but he
afterwards sent his soldiers to demand it back again, so that at length
he had the knapsack, hat and horn, all three. “Now,” said he, “I am a
made man, and it is time for me to go home and see how my brothers are
getting on.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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