The fisherman’s wife stood gaping and staring at the strange figure,
but the old man in red walked straight into the hut. “Bring your nets,
fisherman,” said he, “and come with me. There is something that I want
you to catch for me, and if I have luck I will pay you for your fishing
as never fisherman was paid before.”
“Not I,” said the fisherman, “I go out no more this night. I have been
fishing all day long until my back is nearly broken, and have caught
nothing, and now I am not such a fool as to go out and leave a warm fire
and a good supper at your bidding.”
But the fisherman’s wife had listened to what the old man had said about
paying for the job, and she was of a different mind from her husband.
“Come,” said she, “the old man promises to pay you well. This is not a
chance to be lost, I can tell you, and my advice to you is that you go.”
The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would
not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, “My
advice to you is that you go.”
The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The
wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her
temper; she only said to everything that he said, “My advice to you is
that you go.”
At last the fisherman’s anger boiled over. “Very well,” said he,
spitting his words at her; “if you will drive me out into the night, I
suppose I will have to go.” And then he spoke the words that so many men
say: “Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife’s advice.”
Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and
the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along
like black spiders behind them.
Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through
the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where
nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.
“Well,” said the fisherman, “I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven
years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as
this.”
But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle
with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then
out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a
little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents
and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his
pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he
took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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