Now the mountaineer was lazily walking along the sands, thinking of the
new hut that he was building with the money that he had won on the day
of his lucky jump. He wandered on, his eyes fixed on the sands, so
that he did not see the bailiff drive his boat behind a rock, while he
changed himself into a heap of wreckage which floated in on the waves.
A stumble over a stone recalled Andras to himself, and looking up he
beheld the mass of wreckage. ‘Dear me! I may find some use for that,’
he said; and hastened down to the sea, waiting till he could lay hold
of some stray rope which might float towards him. Suddenly--he could
not have told why--a nameless fear seized upon him, and he fled away
from the shore as if for his life. As he ran he heard the sound of a
pipe, such as only ogres of the Stalo kind were wont to use; and there
flashed into his mind what the bailiff had said when they jumped the
boat: ‘Next time you will have something harder to do.’ So it was no
wreckage after all that he had seen, but the bailiff himself.
It happened that in the long summer nights up in the mountain, where
the sun never set, and it was very difficult to get to sleep, Andras
had spent many hours in the study of magic, and this stood him in good
stead now. The instant he heard the Stalo music he wished himself to
become the feet of a reindeer, and in this guise he galloped like the
wind for several miles. Then he stopped to take breath and find out
what his enemy was doing. Nothing he could see, but to his ears the
notes of a pipe floated over the plain, and ever, as he listened, it
drew nearer.
A cold shiver shook Andras, and this time he wished himself the feet of
a reindeer calf. For when a reindeer calf has reached the age at which
he begins first to lose his hair he is so swift that neither beast nor
bird can come near him. A reindeer calf is the swiftest of all things
living. Yes; but not so swift as a Stalo, as Andras found out when he
stopped to rest, and heard the pipe playing!
For a moment his heart sank, and he gave himself up for dead, till he
remembered that, not far off, were two little lakes joined together by
a short though very broad river. In the middle of the river lay a
stone that was always covered by water, except in dry seasons, and as
the winter rains had been very heavy, he felt quite sure that not even
the top of it could be seen. The next minute, if anyone had been
looking that way, he would have beheld a small reindeer calf speeding
northwards, and by-and-by giving a great spring, which landed him in
the midst of the stream. But, instead of sinking to the bottom, he
paused a second to steady himself, then gave a second spring which
landed him on the further shore. He next ran on to a little hill where
he saw down and began to neigh loudly, so that the Stalo might know
exactly where he was.
‘Ah! There you are,’ cried the Stalo, appearing on the opposite bank;
‘for a moment I really thought I had lost you.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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