Yes, the lad did that; he cut holes in the corn sacks, so that the
rye and the barley ran out on all sides. Then all the wild birds came
flying round them so thick that the sunbeams grew dark, but as soon as
they saw the corn they couldn't keep to their purpose, but flew down
and began to pick and scratch at the rye and barley; and after that
they began to fight amongst themselves. As for Dapplegrim and the lad,
they forgot all about them, and did them no harm.
So the lad rode on and on--far, far over mountain and dale, over
sand-hills and moor. Then Dapplegrim began to prick up his ears again,
and at last he asked the lad if he heard anything.
"Yes, now I hear such an ugly rushing and howling in the wood all
round, it makes me quite afraid."
"Ah!" said Dapplegrim, "that's all the wild beasts that range through
the wood, and they're sent out to stop us. But just cast out the
twelve carcasses of the oxen; that will give them enough to do, and so
they'll forget us outright."
Yes, the lad cast out the carcasses, and then all the wild beasts in
the wood--bears and wolves and lions--came after them. But when they
saw the carcasses, they began to fight for them amongst themselves,
till blood flowed in streams; but Dapple and the lad they quite
forgot.
So the lad rode far away, and they changed the landscape many, many
times, for Dapplegrim didn't let the grass grow under him, as you may
imagine. At last Dapple gave a great neigh.
"Do you hear anything?" he said.
"Yes, I hear something like a colt neighing loudly a long, long way
off," answered the lad.
"That's a full-grown colt, then," said Dapplegrim, "if we hear him
neigh so loud such a long way off."
After that they travelled a good bit, changing the landscape once or
twice, maybe. Then Dapplegrim gave another neigh.
"Now listen, and tell me if you hear anything," he said.
"Yes, now I hear a neigh like a full-grown horse," answered the lad.
"Ay, ay!" said Dapplegrim, "you'll hear him once again soon, and then
you'll hear he's got a voice of his own."
So they travelled on and on, and changed the landscape once or twice,
perhaps, and then Dapplegrim neighed the third time; but before he
could ask the lad if he heard anything, something gave such a neigh
across the heathery hillside, the lad thought hill and rock would
surely be rent asunder.
"Now he's here!" said Dapplegrim; "make haste, now, and throw the
ox-hides, with the spikes in them, over me, and throw down the
tar-barrel on the plain; then climb up into that great spruce-fir
yonder. When it comes, fire will flash out of both nostrils, and then
the tar-barrel will catch fire. Now, mind what I say. If the flame
rises, I win; if it falls, I lose; but if you see me winning, take and
cast the bridle--you must take it off me--over its head, and then it
will be tame enough."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account