The Orange Fairy Book (17 page)

'It is no night for my cloak,' she muttered; 'it would be covered with
mud by the time I got back.' So she took it off her shoulders and hung
it carefully up in a cupboard in the room. After that she put on her
clogs and started to seek her daughter. Directly the last sound of the
clogs had ceased, Pinkel jumped up and took down the cloak, and rowed
off as fast as he could.

He had not gone far when a puff of wind unfolded the cloak, and its
brightness shed gleams across the water. The witch, who was just
entering the forest, turned round at that moment and saw the golden
rays. She forgot all about her daughter, and ran down to the shore,
screaming with rage at being outwitted a third time.

'Is that you, Pinkel?' cried she.

'Yes, dear mother, it is I.'

'Have you taken my gold cloak?'

'Yes, dear mother, I have.'

'Are you not a great knave?'

'Yes, truly dear mother, I am.'

And so indeed he was!

But, all the same, he carried the cloak to the king's palace, and in
return he received the hand of the king's daughter in marriage. People
said that it was the bride who ought to have worn the cloak at her
wedding feast; but the king was so pleased with it that he would not
part from it; and to the end of his life was never seen without it.
After his death, Pinkel became king; and let up hope that he gave up
his bad and thievish ways, and ruled his subjects well. As for his
brothers, he did not punish them, but left them in the stables, where
they grumbled all day long.

(Thorpe's Yule-Tide Stories.)

In a country which is full of wild beasts of all sorts there once lived
a jackal and a hedgehog, and, unlike though they were, the two animals
made great friends, and were often seen in each other's company.

One afternoon they were walking along a road together, when the jackal,
who was the taller of the two, exclaimed:

'Oh! there is a barn full of corn; let us go and eat some.'

'Yes, do let us!' answered the hedgehog. So they went to the barn, and
ate till they could eat no more. Then the jackal put on his shoes,
which he had taken off so as to make no noise, and they returned to the
high road.

After they had gone some way they met a panther, who stopped, and
bowing politely, said:

'Excuse my speaking to you, but I cannot help admiring those shoes of
yours. Do you mind telling me who made them?'

'Yes, I think they are rather nice,' answered the jackal; 'I made them
myself, though.'

'Could you make me a pair like them?' asked the panther eagerly.

'I would do my best, of course,' replied the jackal; 'but you must kill
me a cow, and when we have eaten the flesh I will take the skin and
make your shoes out of it.'

So the panther prowled about until he saw a fine cow grazing apart from
the rest of the herd. He killed it instantly, and then gave a cry to
the jackal and hedgehog to come to the place where he was. They soon
skinned the dead beasts, and spread its skin out to dry, after which
they had a grand feast before they curled themselves up for the night,
and slept soundly.

Next morning the jackal got up early and set to work upon the shoes,
while the panther sat by and looked on with delight. At last they were
finished, and the jackal arose and stretched himself.

'Now go and lay them in the sun out there,' said he; 'in a couple of
hours they will be ready to put on; but do not attempt to wear them
before, or you will feel them most uncomfortable. But I see the sun is
high in the heavens, and we must be continuing our journey.'

The panther, who always believed what everybody told him, did exactly
as he was bid, and in two hours' time began to fasten on the shoes.
They certainly set off his paws wonderfully, and he stretched out his
forepaws and looked at them with pride. But when he tried to walk—ah!
that was another story! They were so stiff and hard that he nearly
shrieked every step he took, and at last he sank down where he was, and
actually began to cry.

After some time some little partridges who were hopping about heard the
poor panther's groans, and went up to see what was the matter. He had
never tried to make his dinner off them, and they had always been quite
friendly.

'You seem in pain,' said one of them, fluttering close to him, 'can we
help you?'

'Oh, it is the jackal! He made me these shoes; they are so hard and
tight that they hurt my feet, and I cannot manage to kick them off.'

'Lie still, and we will soften them,' answered the kind little
partridge. And calling to his brothers, they all flew to the nearest
spring, and carried water in their beaks, which they poured over the
shoes. This they did till the hard leather grew soft, and the panther
was able to slip his feet out of them.

'Oh, thank you, thank you,' he cried, skipping round with joy. 'I feel
a different creature. Now I will go after the jackal and pay him my
debts.' And he bounded away into the forest.

But the jackal had been very cunning, and had trotted backwards and
forwards and in and out, so that it was very difficult to know which
track he had really followed. At length, however, the panther caught
sight of his enemy, at the same moment that the jackal had caught sight
of him. The panther gave a loud roar, and sprang forward, but the
jackal was too quick for him and plunged into a dense thicket, where
the panther could not follow.

Disgusted with his failure, but more angry than ever, the panther lay
down for a while to consider what he should do next, and as he was
thinking, an old man came by.

'Oh! father, tell me how I can repay the jackal for the way he has
served me!' And without more ado he told his story.

'If you take my advice,' answered the old man, 'you will kill a cow,
and invite all the jackals in the forest to the feast. Watch them
carefully while they are eating, and you will see that most of them
keep their eyes on their food. But if one of them glances at you, you
will know that is the traitor.'

The panther, whose manners were always good, thanked the old man, and
followed his counsel. The cow was killed, and the partridges flew
about with invitations to the jackals, who gathered in large numbers to
the feast. The wicked jackal came amongst them; but as the panther had
only seen him once he could not distinguish him from the rest.
However, they all took their places on wooden seats placed round the
dead cow, which was laid across the boughs of a fallen tree, and began
their dinner, each jackal fixing his eyes greedily on the piece of meat
before him. Only one of them seemed uneasy, and every now and then
glanced in the direction of his host. This the panther noticed, and
suddenly made a bound at the culprit and seized his tail; but again the
jackal was too quick for him, and catching up a knife he cut off his
tail and darted into the forest, followed by all the rest of the party.
And before the panther had recovered from his surprise he found
himself alone.

'What am I to do now?' he asked the old man, who soon came back to see
how things had turned out.

'It is very unfortunate, certainly,' answered he; 'but I think I know
where you can find him. There is a melon garden about two miles from
here, and as jackals are very fond of melons they are nearly sure to
have gone there to feed. If you see a tailless jackal you will know
that he is the one you want.' So the panther thanked him and went his
way.

Now the jackal had guessed what advice the old man would give his
enemy, and so, while his friends were greedily eating the ripest melons
in the sunniest corner of the garden, he stole behind them and tied
their tails together. He had only just finished when his ears caught
the sound of breaking branches; and he cried: 'Quick! quick! here comes
the master of the garden!' And the jackals sprang up and ran away in
all directions, leaving their tails behind them. And how was the
panther to know which was his enemy?

'They none of them had any tails,' he said sadly to the old man, 'and I
am tired of hunting them. I shall leave them alone and go and catch
something for supper.'

Of course the hedgehog had not been able to take part in any of these
adventures; but as soon as all danger was over, the jackal went to look
for his friend, whom he was lucky enough to find at home.

'Ah, there you are,' he said gaily. 'I have lost my tail since I saw
you last. And other people have lost theirs too; but that is no
matter! I am hungry, so come with me to the shepherd who is sitting
over there, and we will ask him to sell us one of his sheep.'

'Yes, that is a good plan,' answered the hedgehog. And he walked as
fast as his little legs would go to keep up with the jackal. When they
reached the shepherd the jackal pulled out his purse from under his
foreleg, and made his bargain.

'Only wait till to-morrow,' said the shepherd, 'and I will give you the
biggest sheep you ever saw. But he always feeds at some distance from
the rest of the flock, and it would take me a long time to catch him.'

'Well, it is very tiresome, but I suppose I must wait,' replied the
jackal. And he and the hedgehog looked about for a nice dry cave in
which to make themselves comfortable for the night. But, after they
had gone, the shepherd killed one of his sheep, and stripped off his
skin, which he sewed tightly round a greyhound he had with him, and put
a cord round its neck. Then he lay down and went to sleep.

Very, very early, before the sun was properly up, the jackal and the
hedgehog were pulling at the shepherd's cloak.

'Wake up,' they said, 'and give us that sheep. We have had nothing to
eat all night, and are very hungry.'

The shepherd yawned and rubbed his eyes. 'He is tied up to that tree;
go and take him.' So they went to the tree and unfastened the cord,
and turned to go back to the cave where they had slept, dragging the
greyhound after them. When they reached the cave the jackal said to
the hedgehog.

'Before I kill him let me see whether he is fat or thin.' And he stood
a little way back, so that he might the better examine the animal.
After looking at him, with his head on one side, for a minute or two,
he nodded gravely.

'He is quite fat enough; he is a good sheep.'

But the hedgehog, who sometimes showed more cunning than anyone would
have guessed, answered:

'My friend, you are talking nonsense. The wool is indeed a sheep's
wool, but the paws of my uncle the greyhound peep out from underneath.'

'He is a sheep,' repeated the jackal, who did not like to think anyone
cleverer than himself.

'Hold the cord while I look at him,' answered the hedgehog.

Very unwillingly the jackal held the rope, while the hedgehog walked
slowly round the greyhound till he reached the jackal again. He knew
quite well by the paws and tail that it was a greyhound and not a
sheep, that the shepherd had sold them; and as he could not tell what
turn affairs might take, he resolved to get out of the way.

'Oh! yes, you are right,' he said to the jackal; 'but I never can eat
till I have first drunk. I will just go and quench my thirst from that
spring at the edge of the wood, and then I shall be ready for
breakfast.'

'Don't be long, then,' called the jackal, as the hedgehog hurried off
at his best pace. And he lay down under a rock to wait for him.

More than an hour passed by and the hedgehog had had plenty of time to
go to the spring and back, and still there was no sign of him. And
this was very natural, as he had hidden himself in some long grass
under a tree!

At length the jackal guessed that for some reason his friend had run
away, and determined to wait for his breakfast no longer. So he went
up to the place where the greyhound had been tethered and untied the
rope. But just as he was about to spring on his back and give him a
deadly bite, the jackal heard a low growl, which never proceeded from
the throat of any sheep. Like a flash of lightning the jackal threw
down the cord and was flying across the plain; but though his legs were
long, the greyhound's legs were longer still, and he soon came up with
his prey. The jackal turned to fight, but he was no match for the
greyhound, and in a few minutes he was lying dead on the ground, while
the greyhound was trotting peacefully back to the shepherd.

(Nouveaux Contes Berberes, par Rene Basset.)

Now, though the jackal was dead, he had left two sons behind him, every
whit as cunning and tricky as their father. The elder of the two was a
fine handsome creature, who had a pleasant manner and made many
friends. The animal he saw most of was a hyena; and one day, when they
were taking a walk together, they picked up a beautiful green cloak,
which had evidently been dropped by some one riding across the plain on
a camel. Of course each wanted to have it, and they almost quarrelled
over the matter; but at length it was settled that the hyena should
wear the cloak by day and the jackal by night. After a little while,
however, the jackal became discontented with this arrangement,
declaring that none of his friends, who were quite different from those
of the hyena, could see the splendour of the mantle, and that it was
only fair that he should sometimes be allowed to wear it by day. To
this the hyena would by no means consent, and they were on the eve of a
quarrel when the hyena proposed that they should ask the lion to judge
between them. The jackal agreed to this, and the hyena wrapped the
cloak about him, and they both trotted off to the lion's den.

The jackal, who was fond of talking, at once told the story; and when
it was finished the lion turned to the hyena and asked if it was true.