Part 2

Underneath where it had been was a cavity, and there lay a tiny thing on its back blinking up at the moon and at him. It was no bigger than a year old baby, but it had a great mass of hair and a heavy beard, and the hair and the beard were so long and so twisted round and round the creature's body that Tom could not see its clothes. The hair was yellow and silky like a child's, but the face of the thing was as old as if it had not been young and smooth for hundreds of years. There were just wrinkles and two bright black eyes set in a lot of shining yellow hair; and the skin was the color of fresh-turned earth in the spring--brown as brown could be--and its bare hands and feet were as brown as its face. The crying had stopped, but the tears were standing on its cheeks, and the tiny creature looked dazed in the moonshine and the night air.

When its eyes got used to the moonlight it looked boldly up in Tom's face and said: "Tom, you are a good lad."

The coolness with which it spoke was astonishing, and its voice was high and piping like the twittering of a little bird. Tom touched his hat, and tried to think what he ought to say.

"Hoots!" the thing exclaimed, "you needn't be afraid of me. You have done me a good turn, and I'll do as much for you."

Tom couldn't speak yet, but he thought, "Lord! for sure it's a bogle!"

The creature seemed to know what passed in Tom's mind, for it instantly said: "I'm no bogle, but you'd better not ask what I am. Anyhow, I am a good friend of yours."

Tom's knees smote together with terror. Certainly an ordinary body couldn't have known what he had been thinking, but the thing looked so kind and spoke so fair, that he made bold to say in a quavering voice, "Might I be asking to know your honor's name?"

"H'm!" the creature said, pulling its beard, "as for that, you may call me Yallery Brown. That's the way I look as you plainly see, and 'twill do for a name as well as any other. I am your friend, Yallery Brown, my lad."

"Thank you, master," Tom responded meekly.

"And now," it said, "I'm in a hurry to-night. So tell me without delay what I can do for you. Would you like a wife? I can give you the finest lass in the town. Would you like riches? I can give you as much gold as you can carry. Or would you have me help you with your work? Only say the word."

Tom scratched his head. "I have no hankering for a wife," he said. "Wives are bothersome bodies, and I have women folk at home who will mend my clothes. Gold is worth having, but if you could lighten my work that would suit me best of all. I can't abide work, and I'll thank--"

"Stop!" Yallery Brown cried, as quick as lightning, "I'll help you and welcome, but if ever you thank me you'll never see me more. Remember that! I'll have no thanks"; and it stamped its tiny feet on the ground and looked as wicked as a raging bull. "Harken! you great lump!" it went on, calming down a bit. "If ever you need help, or get into trouble, call on me. Just say, 'Yallery Brown, come from the earth, I want you!' and I'll be with you at once; and now, good night."

So saying, it picked a dandelion puff and blew the winged seeds all up into Tom's eyes and ears. When Tom could see again Yallery Brown was gone, and he would have thought he had been dreaming, were it not for the stone on end and the hole at his feet.

VI--A TROUBLESOME HELPER

Tom went home and to bed, and by morning he had nearly forgotten all about what had happened the previous evening. But when he went to start the day's work, there was none to do. The horses had been fed, the stables cleaned, and everything put in its proper place, and he had nothing to do but stand around with his hands in his pockets.

So it was from morn till night, and so it was on the days that followed. All Tom's work was done by Yallery Brown, and better done than Tom himself could do it. No matter how much the master gave Tom to do, he could sit down at his ease while the work did itself. The hoe, or broom, or whatever it was would get into motion with no visible hand put to it and would finish the task in no time.

Yallery Brown kept out of sight during the day, but in the gray twilight, after the sun had gone down, Tom often saw the tiny creature hopping around like a Will-of-the-Wisp without a lantern.

At first Tom found it mighty fine to be relieved of his work. He had naught to do and good pay for it; but by and by things began to go wrong. His work continued to be done, but the work of the other lads was all undone. If his buckets were filled theirs were upset; if his tools were sharpened theirs were blunted and spoiled; if his horses were made as clean as daisies, theirs were splashed with muck, and so on.

Day in and day out it was the same. Naturally the lads began to have hard feelings toward Tom, and they would not speak to him or go near him, and they carried tales to the master. So things went from bad to worse.

Tom could not work even if he wished to; the spade would not stay in his hand, the scythe escaped from his grip, and the plow ran away from him. More than once he tried his best to do his tasks so that Yallery Brown would leave him and his fellow laborers alone. But he couldn't, and he was compelled to sit by and look on and have the cold shoulder turned on him while the uncanny thing was meddling with the others and working for him.

At last matters got so bad that the master would keep Tom no longer, and if he had not discharged him the other lads would have left. They swore they would not stay on the same farm with him. Tom felt badly, for it was a good place; and he was very angry with Yallery Brown who had got him into such trouble.

So he shook his fist in the air and shouted as loud as he could, "Yallery Brown, come from the earth, you scamp, I want you!"

Hardly had the words left his lips when he felt something tweaking his leg behind, and he was pinched so hard that he jumped with the smart of it. He looked down and there was Yallery Brown with his shining hair and wrinkled face, and wicked glinting black eyes.

Tom was in a fine rage, and he would have liked to kick the ugly creature, but he restrained himself and said, "Look here, master, I'll thank you to leave me alone after this. Do you hear? I want none of your help, and I'll have nothing more to do with you."

The horrid thing broke into a screeching laugh, and pointed its brown finger at Tom. "Ho, ho, Tom!" it said, "you have thanked me, my lad, and I told you not to do so."

"But I don't want your help," Tom yelled. "I only want never to see you again, and to have nothing more to do with you. Now go."

The thing only laughed and screeched and mocked as long as Tom went on berating it, but as soon as his breath gave out it said with a grin: "Tom, my lad, I'll tell you something. Truly, I'll never help you again, and even if you call me you will not see me after today. But I never agreed to let you alone, and that I shall not do, my lad. I was where I could do no harm under that stone, Tom, and you let me out. If you had been wise I would have been your friend and worked for you, but I am your friend no longer, and in the future when everything goes crooked you can know that it is Yallery Brown's doing. Mark my words, will you?"

Then it began to sing and curse and call down misfortunes on him, and it danced round Tom with its yellow hair and beard all flying and a savage scowl on its wrinkled bit of a face. Tom could only stand there shaking all over and staring down at the gruesome thing until at last it rose in the air and floated away on the wind over a wall out of sight with a parting shriek of cunning laughter.

In the days and weeks and years that followed Tom worked here and he worked there, and turned his hand to this and to that, but whatever he did always went wrong. There was no end to Yallery Brown's spite even until Tom's life ended.

VII--THE LITTLE JACKAL

Once upon a time a little jackal lived near the bank of a great river. Every day he went down to the water to catch the crabs that were there.

Not far away, in the same river, dwelt a cruel alligator. He saw the little jackal come down to the water every day, and he thought, "What a nice tender morsel that little jackal would make if I could only catch him!"

One day the alligator hid in the mud, where the water was shallow near shore. Only the tip of his nose stuck out, and that looked very much like the back of a crab.

Soon the little jackal came running along the bank of the river seeking his usual food. When he saw the end of the alligator's nose he thought he had found a fine big crab, and he put in his paw to scoop it out of the mud.

The moment he did that, snap! the teeth of the alligator came together, and the jackal was caught by the paw. He was terribly frightened, for he knew the alligator intended to pull him into the river and eat him.

However, he began to laugh, though the alligator's teeth hurt him sadly. "Oh, you stupid old alligator!" he said. "You thought you would catch my paw, and instead caught a bulrush root that I stuck down in the water to tickle your nose. Ha, ha! you silly, silly alligator."

"Well, well," the alligator thought, "I am very much disappointed. I certainly supposed I had caught that little jackal. But it seems I have nipped nothing except a bulrush root. There is no use of holding on to that." So he opened his mouth.

Then the little jackal snatched out his paw. "O stupid one!" he cried, "you really had caught me, and now you have let me go. Ha, ha! ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! You'll never catch me again." So saying, off he ran up the bank and into the jungle.

The alligator was furiously angry. "I was tricked by the little rascal that time," he said, "but if I get hold of him again he will not escape so easily."

Once more the alligator hid in the mud and waited. But the little jackal came no more to the river. He was afraid, and he stayed in the woods living on figs that he gathered under a wild fig tree.

Day after day passed and it became plain to the alligator that the little jackal was avoiding the river. So early one morning he crawled out of the water and dragged himself to the wild fig tree. There he gathered together a great heap of figs and hid under them.

Shortly afterward the jackal came running to the fig tree, licking his lips, for he was very hungry. At sight of the great heap of figs he was delighted. "Now I will not have the trouble of picking up the figs scattered about on the ground," he said. "Somebody has piled them up all ready for me. How nice!"

But when he went nearer he became suspicious, and thought, "It looks as though something might be hidden under those figs."

Then he cried out: "What is the matter here? Usually, when I come to the fig tree, all the figs that are any good roll about in the wind. Those figs in the pile lie so still that I doubt if they are fit to eat. I will have to go to some other place to get good figs."

The jackal's words made the alligator fear that he had failed again, and he thought: "This little jackal is very particular. I will just shake myself and make the figs roll about a trifle. Then he will come near enough for me to grab him."

So the alligator shook himself, and away rolled the figs in all directions.

"Oh, you stupid old alligator!" the jackal shouted; "if you had stayed still you might have caught me. Ring-a-ting, ring-a-ting! Thank you for shaking yourself and letting me know you were there!" Then away he ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

The alligator gnashed his teeth with rage. "Never mind! I will catch this little jackal yet," he declared, and he hid in the tall grass beside the path that led to the fig tree.

He waited there for several days, but he saw nothing of his intended victim. The jackal was afraid to come to the fig tree any more. He stayed in the jungle and fed on such roots and berries as he could find there, but found so little that he grew thin and miserable.

One morning the alligator made his way to the jackal's house while the jackal was away. He squeezed in through the narrow doorway and hid under the heap of dead leaves that was the jackal's bed.

Toward evening the little jackal came running home. He was very hungry, for he had found scarcely anything to eat all day, and he was very tired too. Just as he was about to go in and lie down on his bed he noticed that the sides of the doorway were scraped and broken as if some big animal had forced its way through.

The little jackal was terribly frightened. He thought, "Is it possible that the wicked alligator has come to hunt for me here in my own house and is waiting inside to catch me?"

Then he called loudly: "What is the matter, house of mine? Every day when I come home you say, 'All is well, little jackal,' but today you say nothing, and I am afraid to come in."

Of course the house did not really speak to him, but he wanted to find out if the alligator was there, and the alligator believed his words. The stupid creature thought, "I shall have to speak just as the house would speak or this tiresome little jackal will not come in."

He made his voice as small and soft as he could, and said, "All is well, little jackal."

Then the jackal knew that the alligator was in his house, and he was more scared than ever. However, he contrived to respond in a cheerful voice: "All right, little house! I will come in as soon as I have been to the brook for a drink of water."

When the alligator heard these words he was filled with joy. He lay quite still under the leaves thinking: "Now I will have that little jackal at last. This time he shall not escape me."

But while he waited, the jackal gathered together a great heap of dead wood and brush and piled it against the door of the house. When it was big enough, the jackal set fire to the heap. It blazed up with a great noise, and the wicked alligator was burned to death.

Then the little jackal danced about singing:

"The alligator's dead, and I am glad! Oh, ring-a-ting-a-ting; oh, ring-a-ting-ting! The alligator's dead, and I am glad!"

After that the little jackal went wherever he pleased in safety, and he ate so many figs and so many crabs that he became as fat as fat could be.

VIII--THE BLIND OGRE

In Italy dwelt a woman named Janella who had eight children. Seven of them were sons, but the youngest was a daughter.

After the sons grew up they went off to see the world. They went on and on until they came to a wood in which dwelt an ogre. This ogre had been blinded by a woman while he lay asleep, and ever since then he had been such an enemy to womankind that he devoured all whom he could catch.

When the youths arrived at the ogre's house, tired out with walking, and faint with hunger, they begged him, for pity's sake, to give them something to eat.

The ogre replied that if they would serve him he would supply them with food. They would have nothing else to do but watch over his safety, each in turn, a day at a time.

This seemed a very satisfactory arrangement to them, and they consented to remain in the service of the ogre. So he let them have all the lower part of the house to live in.

After the brothers had been gone from home a long time, and no tidings of them were received, Channa, their sister, dressed for a journey and went to seek them. On and on she walked, asking at every place she came to whether any one had seen her seven brothers. Finally she got news at an inn of where they were, and away she went to the ogre's house in the wood.

There she made herself known to her brothers and was received with great joy. After the greetings were over the youths told her to stay quietly in their part of the house so the ogre would not be aware of her presence. They also cautioned her to give a portion of whatever she had to eat to a cat which lived there. Otherwise the cat would do her harm.

Channa heeded their advice and got along very well. She shared her food with the cat, always doing it fairly to the last morsel, and saying, "This for me--this for thee."

But one day when the ogre sent the brothers out to do some hunting they left Channa a little basket of peas to cook. While shelling the peas, she found a hazel nut among them, and as ill-luck would have it she ate the nut, forgetting to give half to the cat. The latter, out of spite, ran to the hearth and put out the fire.

Then Channa left the room and went upstairs to the blind ogre's part of the house. She asked him for a few coals, and when he heard a woman's voice he said: "Welcome, madam! Just you wait a while." Afterward he began to sharpen his teeth with a whetstone.

She saw that she had made a mistake in not obeying her brother's orders, and she ran back to the room below. There she bolted the door and placed against it stools, tables, chests, and in fact everything she could move.

As soon as the ogre had put an edge on his teeth he groped his way to the door and found it fastened. So he proceeded to kick it to break it open. The seven brothers came home while he was making all this disturbance, and the ogre accused them of treachery.

Things might have gone badly had it not been for the cleverness of Grazio, the eldest, who said to the ogre: "She has fortified herself so securely inside that you cannot get at her. Come, I will take you to a place where we can seize her without her being able to defend herself."

Then they led the ogre by the hand to the edge of a deep pit, where they gave him a push that sent him headlong to the bottom. After that they got shovels and covered him with earth.

By and by they returned to the house and Channa unfastened the door. They told her to be more careful in future, and to beware of plucking any grass or other plant that might grow on the spot where the ogre was buried, or they would be changed into doves.

"Heaven keep me from bringing such a misfortune on you!" Channa exclaimed.

They took possession of all the ogre's goods, made themselves masters of the whole house, and lived very comfortably and merrily there until spring. Then it happened one morning when the brothers had gone off on some errand, that a poor pilgrim came to the ogre's wood. He was looking up at an ape perched in a pine tree when the creature threw a heavy cone at him. This struck him on the head so hard that the poor fellow set up a loud cry.

Channa heard the noise and ran to where he was sitting on the ground hanging on to his bruised head. She took pity on him and plucked a tuft of rosemary which was growing on the ogre's grave near by. Then she hurried to the house and made a plaster of it with bread and salt. In a few minutes she rejoined the pilgrim and bound the plaster on his head. After that she had him go with her to the house where she gave him some breakfast. When he finished eating she sent him on his way.

IX--SEVEN DOVES

Scarcely had the pilgrim gone when seven doves came flying into the room, and said: "Behold your brothers turned to birds and made companions of snipes, woodpeckers, jays, owls, rooks, starlings, blackbirds, tom-tits, larks, kingfishers, wrens, and sparrows. We shall be persecuted by hawks, and hunters will try to shoot us. Ah! why did you pluck that accursed rosemary and bring such a calamity on us? Doves we must remain for the rest of our lives unless you find the Mother of Time. She can tell you how to get us out of our trouble."

Channa was greatly distressed over what she had done, and said she would start at once searching for the Mother of Time. She urged them to make the ogre's house their home until she returned.

Away she went and journeyed on and on until she came to the seashore, where the waves were banging against the rocks. A huge whale came to the surface close at hand, looked at her, and asked, "What are you seeking, my pretty maiden?"

She replied, "I am seeking the Mother of Time."

"Hear then what you must do," the whale said. "Go along the shore, and when you come to a river, follow it up to its source. There you will meet some one who will show you the way. But do me one kindness. After you have found the old woman, ask her how I can swim about safely without so often knocking on the rocks and being thrown up on the sands."

"I will gladly do that for you," Channa said.

Then she thanked the whale and walked on along the shore. At length she came to a river and followed it up to its source in a beautiful open country of meadows starred with flowers. There she met a mouse who said to her, "Where are you going all alone, my pretty maiden?"

"I am seeking the Mother of Time," Channa replied.

"You have a long way to go," the mouse commented. "But do not lose heart. Go to yonder mountain, and you will obtain more news to help you in your search. And when you find the Mother of Time, will you do me one favor? Ask her what we mice can do to get rid of the tyranny of the cats."

Channa promised to do this for the mouse, and trudged off toward the mountain. When she got to it she sat down on a stone to rest. Some ants were busy close by, and one of them addressed Channa, saying, "Who are you and whither are you going?"

She answered, "I am an unhappy girl who is seeking the Mother of Time."

"Then keep on over the mountain to a large plain, and there you will get more news," the ant said. "After you find the old woman please ask her how the ants can live longer. We store up a great deal of food, and this seems to me a folly while our lives are so short."

"Be at ease," Channa responded. "You can be sure that I will do your errand."

Then she toiled on over the mountain to the great plain, where a wide-spreading old oak tree called to her as she was passing. "Whither are you going so sad, my little lady?" it said. "Come and rest in my shade."

She thanked the old oak, but begged to be excused from stopping because she was going in haste to find the Mother of Time.

"You are not far from her dwelling," the oak announced. "Before you have finished another day's journey you will get to a high mountain on the summit of which is the home of her whom you seek. If you have as much kindness as beauty you will oblige me by asking her why it is that my fruit which used to be relished by strong men is now only made the food of hogs."

"It will be a pleasure to do you such a service," Channa affirmed, and departed.

The next day she arrived at the foot of a mountain which had its summit far up among the clouds. There she found an old man, wearied and wayworn, who had lain down on some hay. The moment he saw Channa he knew her, for he was the pilgrim to whom she had ministered. When she told him what she was seeking he responded that at last he could make some return for her kindness.

"My pretty maiden," he said, "I would have you know that on the top of this mountain you will find a castle which was built so long ago that no one knows when it was built. The walls are cracked, the foundations are crumbling, the doors are worm-eaten, the furniture is worn out, and, in short, everything is gone to wrack and ruin.

"When you are almost to the castle, hide until Time goes out. After he has gone, enter, and you will find an old, old woman, whose face is covered with deep wrinkles, and whose eyebrows are so shaggy she will not be able to see you. She is seated on a clock which is fastened to the wall.

"Go in quickly and take off the weights that keep the machinery of the clock in motion. Then ask the old woman to answer your questions. She will instantly call her son to come and destroy you, but because you have stopped the clock by taking the weights he cannot move. Therefore she will be obliged to tell you what you want to know."

X--TIME AND HIS MOTHER