Centuries of years ago, when almost all this part of the country was wilderness, there was a little boy, who lived in a poor bit of property and his father gave him a little bull-calf, and with it he gave him everything he wanted for it.
But soon after his father died, and his mother got married again to a man that turned out to be a very vicious stepfather, who couldn’t abide the little boy. So at last the stepfather said: “If you bring that bull-calf into this house, I’ll kill it.” What a villain he was, wasn’t he?
Now this little boy used to go out and feed his bull-calf every day with barley bread, and when he did so this time, an old man came up to him—we can guess who that was, eh?—and said to him: “You and your bull-calf had better go away and seek your fortune.”
So he went on and he went on and he went on, as far as I could tell you till tomorrow night, and he went up to a farmhouse and begged a crust of bread, and when he got back he broke it in two and gave half of it to the bull-calf. And he went to another house and begged a bit of cheese curd, and when he went back he wanted to give half of it to the bull-calf.
“No,” said the bull-calf, “I’m going across the field, into the wild-wood wilderness country, where there’ll be tigers, leopards, wolves, monkeys, and a fiery dragon, and I’ll kill them all except the fiery dragon, and he’ll kill me.”
The little boy did cry, and said: “Oh, no, my little bull-calf; I hope he won’t kill you.”
“Yes, he will,” said the little bull-calf, “so you climb up that tree, so that no one can come near you but the monkeys, and if they come the cheese curd will save you. And when I’m killed, the dragon will go away for a bit, then you must come down the tree and skin me, and take out my bladder and blow it out, and it will kill everything you hit with it. So when the fiery dragon comes back, you hit it with my bladder and cut its tongue out.”
(We know there were fiery dragons in those days, like George and his dragon in the Bible; but, there! it’s not the same world nowadays. The world is turned topsy-turvy since then, like as if you’d turned it over with a spade!)
Of course, he did all the little bull-calf told him. He climbed up the tree, and a monkey climbed up the tree after him. But he held the cheese curd in his hand and said: “I’ll squeeze your heart like this flint-stone.” So the monkey cocked his eye as much as to say: “If you can squeeze a flint-stone to make the juice come out of it, you can squeeze me.” But he didn’t say anything, for a monkey’s cunning, but down he went. And all the while the little bull-calf was fighting all the wild beasts on the ground, and the little lad was clapping his hands up the tree, and calling out: “Go in, my little bull-calf! Well fought, little bull-calf!” And he mastered everything except the fiery dragon, but the fiery dragon killed the little bull-calf.
But the lad waited and waited till he saw the dragon go away, then he came down and skinned the little bull-calf, and took out its bladder and went after the dragon. And as he went on, what should he see but a king’s daughter, staked down by the hair of her head, for she had been put there for the dragon to destroy her.
So he went up and untied her hair, but she said: “My time has come, for the dragon to destroy me; go away, you can do no good.”
But he said: “No! I can master it, and I won’t go;” and for all her begging and praying, he would stop.
And soon he heard it coming, roaring and raging from afar off, and at last it came near, spitting fire and with a tongue like a great spear, and you could hear it roaring for miles, and it was making for the place where the king’s daughter was staked down. But when it came up to them, the lad just hit it on the head with the bladder and the dragon fell down dead, but before it died, it bit off the little boy’s forefinger.
Then the lad cut out the dragon’s tongue and said to the king’s daughter: “I’ve done all I can, I must leave you.” And sorry she was he had to go, and before he went she tied a diamond ring in his hair, and said good-bye to him.
By-and-by, who should come along but the old king, lamenting and weeping, and expecting to see nothing of his daughter but the prints of the place where she had been. But he was surprised to find her there alive and safe, and he said: “How came you to be saved?” So she told him how she had been saved, and he took her home to his castle again.
Well, he put it into all the papers to find out who saved his daughter, and who had the dragon’s tongue and the princess’s diamond ring, and was without his forefinger. Whoever could show these signs should marry his daughter and have his kingdom after his death. Well, any number of gentlemen came from all parts of England, with forefingers cut off, and with diamond rings and all kinds of tongues, wild beasts’ tongues and foreign tongues. But they couldn’t show any dragons’ tongues, so they were turned away.
At last the little boy turned up, looking very ragged and desolated, and the king’s daughter cast her eye on him, till her father grew very angry and ordered them to turn the little beggar boy away.
“Father,” said she, “I know something of that boy.”
Well, still the fine gentlemen came, bringing up their dragons’ tongues that weren’t dragons’ tongues, and at last the little boy came up, dressed a little better. So the old king said: “I see you’ve got an eye on that boy. If it has to be him, it must be him.”
But all the others were fit to kill him, and cried out: “Pooh, pooh, turn that boy out, it can’t be him.”
But the king said: “Now, my boy, let’s see what you have to show.”
Well, he showed the diamond ring with her name on it, and the fiery dragon’s tongue. How the others were thunderstruck when he showed his proofs!
But the king told him: “You shall have my daughter and my estate.”
So he married the princess, and afterwards got the king’s estate. Then his step-father came and wanted to own him, but the young king didn’t know such a man.
RICH PETER THE PEDLAR, by George Webbe Dasent
Once on a time there was a man whom they called Rich Peter the Pedlar, because he used to travel about with a pack, and got so much money that he became quite rich. This Rich Peter had a daughter, whom he held so dear that all who came to woo her were sent about their business, for no one was good enough for her, he thought. Well, this went on and on, and at last no one came to woo her, and as years rolled on, Peter began to be afraid that she would die an old maid.
“I wonder now,” he said to his wife, “why suitors no longer come to woo our lass, who is so rich. ’Twould be odd if nobody cared to have her, for money she has, and more she shall have. I think I’d better just go off to the Stargazers, and ask them whom she shall have, for not a soul comes to us now.”
“But how,” asked the wife, “can the Stargazers answer that?”
“Can’t they?” said Peter; “why! they read all things in the stars.”
So he took with him a great bag of money, and set off to the Stargazers, and asked them to be so good as to look at the stars, and tell him the husband his daughter was to have.
Well, the Stargazers looked and looked, but they said they could see nothing about it. But Peter begged them to look better, and to tell him the truth; he would pay them well for it. So the Stargazers looked better, and at last they said that his daughter’s husband was to be the miller’s son, who was only just born, down at the mill below Rich Peter’s house. Then Peter gave the Stargazers a hundred dollars, and went home with the answer he had got.
Now, he thought it too good a joke that his daughter should wed one so newly born, and of such poor estate. He said this to his wife, and added,—
“I wonder now if they would sell me the boy; then I’d soon put him out of the way?”
“I daresay they would,” said his wife; “you know they’re very poor.”
So Peter went down to the mill, and asked the miller’s wife whether she would sell him her son; she should get a heap of money for him?
“No!” that she wouldn’t.
“Well!” said Peter,
“I’m sure I can’t see why you shouldn’t; you’ve hard work enough as it is to keep hunger out of the house, and the boy won’t make it easier, I think”
But the mother was so proud of the boy she couldn’t part with him. So when the miller came home, Peter said the same thing to him, and gave his word to pay six hundred dollars for the boy, so that they might buy themselves a farm of their own, and not have to grind other folks’ corn, and to starve when they ran short of water. The miller thought it was a good bargain, and he talked over his wife; and the end was, that Rich Peter got the boy. The mother cried and sobbed, but Peter comforted her by saying the boy should be well cared for; only they had to promise never to ask after him, for he said he meant to send him far away to other lands, so that he might learn foreign tongues.
So when Peter the Pedlar got home with the boy he sent for a carpenter, and had a little chest made, which was so tidy and neat, ’twas a joy to see. This he made water-tight with pitch, put the miller’s boy into it, locked it up, and threw it into the river, where the stream carried it away.
“Now, I’m rid of him,” thought Peter the Pedlar.
But when the chest had floated ever so far down the stream, it came into the mill-head of another mill, and ran down and hampered the shaft of the wheel, and stopped it. Out came the miller to see what stopped the mill, found the chest, and took it up. So when he came home to dinner to his wife, he said,—
“I wonder now whatever there can be inside this chest, which came floating down the mill-head and stopped our mill to-day?”
“That we’ll soon know,” said his wife; “see, there’s the key in the lock, just turn it.”
So they turned the key, and opened the chest, and lo! there lay the prettiest child you ever set eyes on. So they were both glad, and were ready to keep the child, for they had no children of their own, and were so old they could now hope for none.
Now, after a little while, Peter the Pedlar began to wonder how it was no one came to woo his daughter, who was so rich in land, and had so much ready money. At last, when no one came, off he went again to the Stargazers, and offered them a heap of money if they could tell him whom his daughter was to have for a husband.
“Why, we have told you already, that she is to have the miller’s son down yonder,” said the Stargazers.
“All very true, I daresay,” said Peter the Pedlar; “but it so happens he’s dead; but if you can tell me whom she’s to have, I’ll give you two hundred dollars, and welcome.”
So the Stargazers looked at the stars again, but they got quite cross, and said,—
“We told you before, and we tell you now, she is to have the miller’s son, whom you threw into the river, and wished to make an end of; for he is alive, safe and sound, in such and such a mill, far down the stream.”
So Peter the Pedlar gave them two hundred dollars for this news, and thought how he could best be rid of the miller’s son. The first thing Peter did when he got home was to set off for the mill. By that time the boy was so big that he had been confirmed, and went about the mill, and helped the miller. Such a pretty boy you never saw.
“Can’t you spare me that lad yonder?” said Peter the Pedlar to the miller.
“No, that I can’t,” he answered; “I’ve brought him up as my own son, and he has turned out so well that now he’s a great help and aid to me in the mill, for I’m getting old and past work.”
“It’s just the same with me,” said Peter the pedlar; “that’s why I’d like to have some one to learn my trade. Now, if you’ll give him up to me, I’ll give you six hundred dollars, and then you can buy yourself a farm, and live in peace and quiet the rest of your days.”
Yes, when the miller heard that, he let Peter the Pedlar have the lad.
Then the two travelled about far and wide, with their packs and wares, till they came to an inn, which lay by the edge of a great wood. From this Peter the Pedlar sent the lad home with a letter to his wife, for the way was not so long if you took the short cut across the wood, and told him to tell her she was to be sure and do what was written in the letter as quickly as she could. But it was written in the letter that she was to have a great pile made there and then, fire it, and cast the miller’s son into it. If she didn’t do that, he’d burn her alive himself when he came back. So the lad set off with the letter across the wood, and when evening came on he reached a house far, far away in the wood, into which he went; but inside he found no one. In one of the rooms was a bed ready made, so he threw himself across it and fell asleep. The letter he had stuck into his hat-band, and the hat he pulled over his face. So when the robbers came back—for in that house twelve robbers had their abode—and saw the lad lying on the bed, they began to wonder who he could be, and one of them took the letter and broke it open, and read it.
“Ho! ho!” said he; “this comes from Peter the Pedlar, does it? Now we’ll play him a trick. It would be a pity if the old niggard made an end of such a pretty lad.”
So the robbers wrote another letter to Peter the Pedlar’s wife, and fastened it under his hat-band while he slept; and in that they wrote that as soon as ever she got it she was to make a wedding for her daughter and the miller’s boy, and give them horses and cattle, and household stuff, and set them up for themselves in the farm which he had under the hill; and if he didn’t find all this done by the time he came back she’d smart for it—that was all.
Next day the robbers let the lad go, and when he came home and delivered the letter, he said he was to greet her kindly from Peter the Pedlar, and to say that she was to carry out what was written in the letter as soon as ever she could.
“You must have behaved very well then,” said Peter the Pedlar’s wife to the miller’s boy, “if he can write so about you now, for when you set off, he was so mad against you he didn’t know how to put you out of the way.” So she married them on the spot, and set them up for themselves, with horses, and cattle, and household stuff, in the farm up under the hill.
No long time after Peter the Pedlar came home, and the first thing he asked was, if she had done what he had written in his letter.
“Ay! ay!” she said; “I thought it rather odd, but I dared not do anything else;” and so Peter asked where his daughter was.
“Why, you know well enough where she is,” said his wife. “Where should she be but up at the farm under the hill, as you wrote in the letter.”
So when Peter the Pedlar came to hear the whole story, and came to see the letter, he got so angry he was ready to burst with rage, and off he ran up to the farm to the young couple.
“It’s all very well, my son, to say you have got my daughter,” he said to the miller’s lad; “but if you wish to keep her, you must go to the Dragon of Deepferry, and get me three feathers out of his tail; for he who has them may get anything he chooses.”
“But where shall I find him?” said his son-in-law.
“I’m sure I can’t tell,” said Peter the Pedlar; “that’s your look-out, not mine.”
So the lad set off with a stout heart, and after he had walked some way he came to a king’s palace.
“Here I’ll just step in and ask,” he said to himself, “for such great folk know more about the world than others, and perhaps I may here learn the way to the Dragon.”
Then the king asked him whence he came, and whither he was going?
“Oh!” said the lad, “I’m going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail, if I only knew where to find him.”
“You must take luck with you, then,” said the King, “for I never heard of any one who came back from that search. But if you find him, just ask him from me why I can’t get clear water in my well; for I’ve dug it out time after time, and still I can’t get a drop of clear water.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask him,” said the lad. So he lived on the fat of the land at the palace, and got money and food when he left it.
At even he came to another king’s palace; and when he went into
the kitchen, the King came out of the parlour and asked whence he came, and on what errand he was bound.
“Oh,” said the lad, “I’m going to the Dragon of Deepferry to pluck three feathers out of his tail.”
“Then you must take luck with you,” said the King, “for I never yet heard that any one came back who went to look for him. But if you find him, be so good as to ask him from me where my daughter is, who has been lost so many years. I have hunted for her, and had her name given out in every church in the country, but no one can tell me anything about her.
“Yes, I’ll mind and do that,” said the lad; and in that palace too he lived on the best, and when he went away he got both money and food.
So when evening drew on again he came at last to another king’s palace. Here who should come out into the kitchen but the Queen, and she asked him whence he came, and on what errand he was bound.
“I’m going to the Dragon of Deepferry, to pluck three feathers out of his tail,” said the lad.
“Then you’d better take a good piece of luck with you,” said the Queen, “for I never heard of any one that came back from him. But if you find him, just be good enough to ask him from me where I shall find my gold keys which I have lost.”
“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask him,” said the lad.
Well, when he left the palace he came to a great broad river; and while he stood there, and wondered whether he should cross it or go down along the bank, an old hunch-backed man came up, and asked whither he was going.
“Oh, I’m going to the Dragon of Deepferry, if I could only find any one to tell where I can find him.”
“I can tell you that,” said the man; “for here I go backwards and forwards, and carry those over who are going to see him. He lives just across, and when you climb the hill you’ll see his castle; but mind, if you come to talk with him, to ask him from me how long I’m to stop here and carry folk over.”
“I’ll be sure to ask him,” said the lad.
So the man took him on his back and carried him over the river; and when he climbed the hill he saw the castle and went in.
The Dragon Megapack Page 18