“If I find you have deceived me, you are a dead man, said the herdsman;
and they went out together.
“What do you call that?” asked the youth. And the herdsman looked and
saw the traces of a fire, which seemed to have sprung up from under the
earth.
“Wonder upon wonder,” he exclaimed, “so you really did speak the truth
after all! Well, I cannot reproach you, though I shall have to pay
heavily to my royal master for the value of that ox. But come, let us
go home! I will never set you to herd cattle again, henceforward I will
give you something easier to do.”
“I have thought of exactly the thing for you,” said the herdsman as
they walked along, “and it is so simple that you cannot make a mistake.
Just make me ten scythes, one for every man, for I want the grass mown
in one of my meadows to-morrow.”
At these words the youth’s heart sank, for he had never been trained
either as a smith or a joiner. However, he dared not say no, but smiled
and nodded.
Slowly and sadly he went to bed, but he could not sleep, for wondering
how the scythes were to be made. All the skill and cunning he had shown
before was of no use to him now, and after thinking about the scythes
for many hours, there seemed only one way open to him. So, listening to
make sure that all was still, he stole away to his parents, and told
them the whole story. When they had heard everything, they hid him
where no one could find him.
Time passed away, and the young man stayed at home doing all his
parents bade him, and showing himself very different from what he had
been before he went out to see the world; but one day he said to his
father that he should like to marry, and have a house of his own.
“When I served the king’s chief herdsman,” added he, “I saw his
daughter, and I am resolved to try if I cannot win her for my wife.”
“It will cost you your life, if you do,” answered the father, shaking
his head.
“Well, I will do my best,” replied his son; “but first give me the
sword which hangs over your bed!”
The old man did not understand what good the sword would do, however he
took it down, and the young man went his way.
Late in the evening he arrived at the house of the herdsman, and
knocked at the door, which was opened by a little boy.
“I want to speak to your master,” said he.
“So it is you?” cried the herdsman, when he had received the message.
“Well, you can sleep here to-night if you wish.”
“I have come for something else besides a bed,” replied the young man,
drawing his sword, “and if you do not promise to give me your youngest
daughter as my wife I will stab you through the heart.”
What could the poor man do but promise? And he fetched his youngest
daughter, who seemed quite pleased at the proposed match, and gave the
youth her hand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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