Part 8

Strange to say, they found everybody inside the castle shedding tears, so that there were barely handkerchiefs enough to go round. Even the sentinel at the castle gate was weeping and had already used up four. Secretly, the tailor wished he had brought along his whole stock of linen, for here he might have driven a good bargain, and made large sales at a high profit. But he told no one his thoughts.

In one breath, both the tailor and the giant asked, “What’s the matter?”

Then the man-at-arms told them the trouble. A dragon, living up in the mountains, in a cave had been roaring all night for food. The citizens wanted to feed the criminals, then in prison, to the monster, but he refused such common nourishment. In fact, he was the most particular dragon, as to his diet, that ever came to Switzerland. He required one maiden a day to appease his hunger. He never would be satisfied with boys, or men, or even with ladies, that were either slender or bony.

Now the supply of plump and beautiful girls had actually run so low, that the new victims had to draw lots. This very day, the lot had fallen on the King’s only daughter, and at sunrise the next day, she was to be swallowed up.

As soon as the news had spread abroad in the city, after sunrise, the stock on hand, in all the shops that kept mourning goods, or black silk, or muslin, or grief-bordered handkerchiefs, was sold out before noon, and there was not time enough to import a fresh supply of crêpe from Paris. So everybody was sighing and groaning, and the sounds were appalling. Some were shedding tears copiously, for real grief; but others, because their old mourning garments were out of fashion. With others, it was a case of economy, rather than grief, for black goods saved their best clothes.

But the tailor, though feeling sad at first, saw a chance of coining wealth and getting into society, for he had quickly learned that the king had offered his daughter, in marriage, to any one who would fight and kill the dragon, besides making a gift outright, of a thousand pounds of gold.

So when the pair of heroes, the tailor and giant, proffered their services, the monarch gave the monstrous fellow an iron bar, as big as the rail for a locomotive to run on.

But when the king saw that the little tailor had only a pair of scissors, he laughed, until he forgot his grief. Then he offered the little man a battle axe. It was as sharp as a razor, and heavy enough to chop open a knight clothed in steel. Thus armed, the two were all ready to set out together to the dragon’s cave.

Pretending that one of his shoe laces had broken and he needed to tie it up, the tailor told the giant to go on, and carry both axe and iron club, and he would catch up with him. When the two were together, the giant was about to hand his companion the battle axe, when the tailor began at once to talk about rice pudding. He smilingly asked the giant whether he liked raisins in it, and would take it with grated nutmeg, sprinkled over the top; or, would he have it plain?

The subject was so interesting to the giant, that his eyes sparkled at once. He forgot that he was carrying both of the two heavy things, axe and bar. He never dropped them, until they reached the dragon’s lair.

But, while they were arguing which should go in first, the dragon rushed out and swallowed the little tailor at a gulp, without chewing him up.

The giant noticed that not a bit of butter, nor drop of gravy, was necessary, for the tailor had slid down, and disappeared, in a jiffy. Thereupon, the giant gave the monster a mighty wallop upon the head, with the iron bar. It was so terrific, that he fell dead and stiffened out, ten yards long. The giant waited to be sure he was defunct. Then, opening the monster’s wide mouth, he thrust his big fist down the dragon’s throat, pulled up the little tailor, and stood him on his feet.

The tailor was out of breath, for a moment; but, quickly regaining both his wind and his wits, he took off his cap and began to rub his head.

“What’s the matter?” asked the giant. “Don’t you feel all right?”

“Why, no! You nearly dented my skull, when you struck the dragon with your club. Why are you not more skillful? I can handle such monsters better than you. Can’t you see that I just leaped into the dragon’s mouth, in order to cut his throat, with my scissors?” With this, he flourished his shears, which were all bloody.

The stupid giant was dumbfounded, but he did not know enough to contradict the tailor, who told the big fellow to shoulder the dragon, and they would both go back to the king’s court, and demand the promised reward. So, with much pulling and hauling, lifting and dragging, the giant did all the work. The clumsy carcass was laid before the royal throne. The princess, looking on, wondered which one of the two heroes was to be her husband.

She did not feel, just then, like marrying either of them, big or little. When, however, she thought it over, she believed she could live on her income better with the tailor, than with the giant, who was already beginning to ask when dinner would be ready.

As for the king, he could not decide which was the hero, for both laid claims to the princess and to the gold. So, for the time being, the giant was fed all the beans, and pork, and barley, and turnips, he could eat; but, even then, the tailor saw that the big fellow was not satisfied, and would rather have rice pudding.

The king and his wise men kept on debating for several days, for neither would give in. Then they became alarmed, when the steward whispered, in the royal ear, that provisions were running low. In fact, both the larder and the cellar were nearly empty. This was on account of the giant’s enormous appetite. By the following Sunday, nothing would be left except an extra hogshead of rice.

The tailor overheard the steward’s talk, and at once he proposed a plan, by which the contest between the two claimants could be settled. Let that hogshead of rice be made into one enormous pudding. It must be well sweetened, and with plenty of raisins and powdered nutmeg on top, and then divided into two parts, or piles. Whichever ate up his portion, most quickly, should be hailed as the hero, marry the princess, get the money, and be publicly announced, by the trumpeters, as the royal son-in-law and successor to the throne.

“Now I’ll keep my promise,” said the tailor to himself, “as to what I could do, with only a pair of scissors and a bag.”

So, when the boiled rice, smoking hot, was piled on trenchers, and served on a long table, with a small shovel beside each large wooden plate, the trial began. The giant went at his mess, as if he were himself a dragon. To his astonishment, however, the tailor made the rice pudding disappear as fast as he himself could. Even after unbuckling his belt, and letting out, first, two, and then four holes, in the leather, the tailor kept on.

Finally the giant had to stop. He rolled over on the floor and cried out:

“I’m beaten. Give the tailor the princess and the money; but don’t let him skin me alive.”

All the while, the tailor, who had a pal, under the table, to hand him bag after bag, as he dropped into them the shovelfuls of rice pudding. He filled, first, one big bag, strapped to his bosom, and when that was full, he put on another. The giant was so occupied with gorging himself, that he did not notice anything, but the rice before him.

Meanwhile the man, whom the tailor had paid to do it, kept on handing fresh bags to the tailor. When all of these, except several, towards the last, were used up, he took the tailor’s scissors and cut open the bags at the bottom of the pile, for fear the supply of bags might run out. Meanwhile, he filled a tub near by. So the castle people were saved from starvation, but they all, from king to scullion, had only cold rice to eat the next day.

When the tailor explained, to the giant, that he had an extra stomach, and cut open the first one, after enjoying the taste of the rice pudding, and then filled the second one, the giant, foolishly hoping still to eat more, and thinking it was the proper thing to do, cut open his big stomach with a sword. But that was too much even for a giant.

So on Monday, the next day, the giant’s funeral took place, and on Tuesday, the day after, the tailor married the princess, and they lived happily ever after. He had several sons and daughters, and people said his boys and girls looked like their father, on whose coat of arms was a leather wallet and a pair of scissors.

XIII

THE DWARF’S SECRET

There is one curious thing about the little brown fellows of the mountains, called dwarfs, that seems very funny to us. Instead of thinking of themselves as less than men, they consider themselves fully as clever as human beings. Indeed, some of them strut about, slapping their stomachs and saying “who wants to be a man?”

Instead of rating men as greater than themselves, they are more apt to talk about human beings as slow, and dull witted. The dwarfs declare that they have secrets which no boys or girls, or even wise men, can ever find out.

Most of the dwarfs live in caves, or down in the mines. They are very expert in using fires, forges, bellows, anvils, hammers, tongs, pincers and the tools of blacksmiths and machinists. They often make very handsome weapons, ornaments and things of use, such as guns, ploughs, swords, armor, milkpans, and cheese caldrons.

Now there was a hunter named Walter, who lived in the Alps. This man went out every day to get food for his wife and his large family of boys and girls, who all had good appetites. He never shot at any creature, or ever killed anything that had life, out of mere sport. He was always pleasant to the dwarfs also.

So all these folks, in the caves and mines, got to like this hunter. Even the chamois, that he chased, knew that he was not cruel. Besides, they heard good things about him from the birds, that could talk the languages of goats, ibexes and chamois.

Occasionally Walter the hunter shot a bear, and then he had a big fur robe, out of which to make a bed, besides bones for all his dogs to gnaw upon. Moreover, he was looked upon by the village people as a hero, and his sons felt very proud of their father.

Yet it was not so easy, as some might think, to feed his large family, for each of these youngsters seemed to have a cave, growing in their stomachs, which, three times a day, apparently enlarged, as meal time drew near. Only a few potatoes and cabbages could be grown in their garden, and every wisp of hay, and all the dry leaves, had to be saved, to keep warm in the Swiss winter, which lasted eight or nine months.

Buttermilk and potatoes, and corn meal, boiled in goat’s milk, was what was on the bill of fare for Walter’s family, most of the time. They were too poor to live down in the valleys, or villages, where the land was all owned by well-to-do people. So the entire family, old and young, were kept busy at work, every moment of daylight in summer, when the snow was off the ground. There were many things to do, to get fuel, to keep the roof from leaking, and to prepare for the awful cold, from September to May.

Walter’s chief trouble was with his poor gun, the barrel of which was a smooth bore, which could not shoot a bullet straight forward, very far, so that the hunter could not be sure of hitting anything that was over fifty yards away.

Sometimes, Walter would spend many hours, or even a whole day, while out hunting, in climbing over rocks and up the steep mountain sides, to get even a distant shot at a chamois, only to miss his aim. Or, what was even worse, to this kind-hearted hunter, the leaden ball, going out of its course, only wounded the poor animal, so that it ran away, to suffer a long time and then die in pain. In this manner, Walter very often lost a dinner for himself and his hungry children, while he grieved over inflicting pain upon innocent creatures. More than once, he threw down the gun, in his anger, calling it names, as if it were an animal, or, at the worst, a “blunder buss.”

Now, so many of the chamois had complained to their friends and protectors, the dwarfs, about the cruelty of hunters, and the sufferings of their fellows, especially the doe and fawn, that all these little people held a congress, in a cave, and to see what could be done. Nearly a hundred dwarfs attended the meeting, and both graybeards and youngsters were invited to give their opinions. All agreed that men were stupid fellows, and had to be helped out, in all their needs and plans, as well as to have their wits sharpened, by the dwarfs.

“Here is a really good and kind hunter, Walter. He is using a blunderbuss, because he has nothing better. He ought to help him improve his weapon. But what can be done?”

“We must first find out the reason why this fellow Walter, and others like him, inflict so many wounds upon the chamois; for we know he is our friend, and is full of pity for the animals,” said a venerable old chap, who seemed to be chairman of the meeting.

The talk went on for hours. At last a good looking dwarf, with a big head and very long white beard, slowly arose to speak. Usually, he never said a word, but listened carefully, until every one else had had his say. Then, if asked, he would give his own opinion, which always proved to be the sense of the whole meeting. Every one wondered how his head could carry all he knew, and how he could remember what each one had said. So he was generally known, by one or the other of two names, which, in the dwarf language, mean “Thought Includer,” or “Clarifier of Ideas.”

The chairman at once recognized him, called him by name, and bade him come up in front and speak where all could hear him. He was very modest at first, and held back a moment, but fearing that some of the other dwarfs might twist their necks off, in turning them too far around to get a good look at him, and knowing that some of the old fellows were nearly deaf, he strode forward. Stepping upon a platform of rock, where all could hear him easily, he began thus:

“The trouble with our friend Walter, and with all other hunters, good and bad, especially with those who are poor shots, is that with all their good intentions, they are too stupid. They need the help of us dwarfs.”

Here he was interrupted by applause, and cries of “well said,” and “go on.”

“Now,” he resumed, “from what has been already remarked, by the honorable speakers in this company, I propose:

“1. That we prevail upon the prettiest fairy in the Alps to lure this man Walter up into one of our caves, so far up toward the peaks that, getting very tired, he will fall asleep quickly.

“2. Then, while in slumber, one of our best soothsayers will make him dream of a gun that never misses fire, or fails to deliver its bullet to the mark.

“3. Finally, that our best craftsman shall invent a new kind of weapon, with improved barrel and lock. Then, when Walter wakes up, I propose he be shown how to use it.”

On hearing this, all the dwarfs clapped their hands and the meeting broke up, every one feeling sure that men needed only the brains of dwarfs to help them. Now, they declared, there would be few wounded chamois to suffer pain.

The chairman then selected, from the dwarfs that were passing out, one handsome fellow to take the message, in the most polite manner and correct language, to the fairy maids. These were to choose one of their number, as the Queen of Beauty, to lead the hunter to the cave, in which the dwarf’s secret was to be revealed.

To another was given the task of conjuring up the dream for the sleeping hunter.

Then a committee of four, of the cleverest dwarfs, was appointed to invent the new gun, and show the hunter how to use it.

Now the cave selected, to which the prettiest of the fairies was to lead the hunter, was one just opened, a few days before, by an avalanche. In tumbling down the slopes, this colossal ball of snow and ice, well loaded with rocks, had struck off a part of the mountain which had bulged out. In a moment the rocky crust was broken open.

Then as if a curtain had been lifted, a great cave, like a hall lighted with crystal chandeliers, was suddenly opened to view. As the sunbeams struck the walls, the vast space was seen to be full of topaz, glittering at a thousand facets, like cut and polished diamonds.

The lovely fairy elected to allure the hunter was told about this new cave of jewels. She was perfectly delighted, with both the task given her to do and with the jewel parlor. She met the hunter, who was struggling upwards, on his way to the high peaks, after a chamois. She first appeared in his path, and greeted him with a smile. She then led him towards the topaz cavern. Her beauty so dazzled him, that, while she went ahead, talking to him, he quickly forgot the miles he had traveled. Occasionally, she would sing a sweet song.

Soon she had led him into the topaz hall of the great cave, but no sooner had he crossed the threshold than he fell down, exhausted, upon the shining floor. In a moment he was in a deep sleep, from which he was not to awake for many days.

Meanwhile, the master dwarfs were busy at the forges, making a new kind of fire arm. Instead of leaving the barrel smooth inside, they made grooves, along its whole length, which curved and twisted round. Or, as they said, they made it reiffelin, which kept the leaden ball perfectly straight on its course. When finished, a master dwarf asked the fairy to fly across the ravine and set up on the face of the cliff, a hundred yards off, a flat round bit of smoky rock crystal, only as big as a thaler, or a watch face.

First the dwarf loaded the gun and then, with a mallet, pounded on the ramrod, to drive the lead of the bullet well into the grooves. Then, taking aim, he pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the disc, knocking the pretty crystal to pieces.

By this time the hunter, asleep in the cave, began to dream, and the fairy whispered the secret in his ear. With both sight and hearing, he saw and understood all.

Awaking, the hunter found his old blunderbuss gone. In its place lay the rifle, and a beauty it was, lighter to carry, more graceful in shape, and requiring less powder and lead. For one who had to climb mountains, this was a great benefit. So he at once loaded his new piece, so as to be ready for the first chamois he should see. He thought it would be fine fun to carry home a prize, in addition to his new weapon.

He had hardly stepped out of the topaz cave, which seemed to close like a door behind him, than there appeared in view four chamois, each full grown and with splendid horns. Putting his rifle to his shoulder and taking careful aim, though the distance was great, he fired. Instantly, there fell the finest of the animals, while the others scampered away.

Retrieving his prize, Walter started down the mountain with the buck on his back. Reaching home, his wife embraced him, and all his children gathered round him, while his dog frisked about him in delight. Then he told the whole story.

The next day, he walked to the village and showed the gunsmith the rifle barrel, which he had cleaned and scoured inside, until, when unscrewed from the stock, it shone like a mirror. At first, the craftsman laughed at him, but on looking down into the muzzle, as a sunbeam struck the touch hole and lighted it up along the whole length, the gunsmith opened his eyes wide in surprise. Besides a sight of it, he put his little finger in and at once discovered the secret. His eyes gleamed and his face lighted to a smile of joy. He begged the hunter to let him try the weapon. Walter gladly allowed him, for the gunmaker was an expert. At a hundred yards, he knocked a hole in a plough handle. On a second shot, he cut the stem of a lone leaf remaining on a maple tree. At his success, the gunsmith fairly yelled with delight. Thenceforth the hunter was called Mr. Walter Reiffler.

The gunsmith, with the happy hunter’s permission, set up, as a sign over his shop, the picture of a disc or circle, with eight dots showing the grooves in the gun. From this time forth, he could not make rifles enough to supply the chamois hunters. Each man wanted the new weapon. There was rejoicing, even among the dumb animals, for the dwarfs told them what had happened and why it was that none of their number suffered pain any more, or died in agony from the hunters’ missing fire.