And the old woman she started up to the room, and she told the old man what had happened to the scowder; and the old fellow got into a mighty rage entirely, and was for getting up and going down to have the life of Manis, for he was starving with the hunger. But she tried to soothe him as well as she could. And then he told her to go down to the kitchen and make something else on the fire for him.
“O, it’s no use,” says she, “a-trying to make anything on the fire, for there’ll be some other ache coming on that fellow’s ankle or some other trouble on his mind, and he’ll be getting up in the middle of it all to tell me about it. But I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” says she, “I’ll go out and I’ll milk the cow, and give you a good jug of sweet milk to drink, and that will take the hunger off you till morning.”
He told her to get up quick and do it, or she would find him dead of the hunger.
And off she went as quickly as she could, and took a jug off the kitchen dresser, and slipped out, leaving Manis snoring loudly in the kitchen. But when Manis thought that she had had time to have the jug near filled from the cow, he slips out to the byre, and as it was dark he talked like the old man: “And,”says he, “I’ll die with the hunger if you don’t hurry with that.”
So she filled the jug, and she reached it to him in the dark, and he drank it off, and gave her back the empty jug, and went in and lay down.
Then she milked off another jug for herself and drank it, and came slipping in, and put the jug easy on the dresser, so as not to waken Manis, and went up to the room.
When she came up, the old fellow was raging there. Says he: “You might have milked all the cows in the county since, an’ me dead with hunger here waitin’ on it. Give me my jug of milk,” says he.
“And what do ye mean?” says she.
“What does yourself mean, you old blather-skite?” says the old man, says he.
Says she, “Didn’t you come out to the byre and ask me for the jug of milk there, an’ didn’t I give it to you, and didn’t you drink it all?”
“Be this and be that,” says he, “but this is a nice how-do-ye-do. It’s that scoundrel,” says he, “in the kitchen that’s tricked ye again. An’ be this an’ be that,” says he, “I’m goin’ down now to have his life.”
And when she heard how she had been tricked, she was not a bit sorry to let him go and have Manis’s life.
But Manis had been listening with his ear to the keyhole to hear what was going on, and when he heard this, and while the man was preparing to go down and take his life, he hauled in a calf, and put it by the fireside where he had been lying, and threw the cover over it.
And when the man came down with the sledge-hammer, he went to the place where he knew Manis had been lying, and he struck with all his might, and he drove the hammer through the calfs skull, and the calf only just gave one moo! and died. And then the old fellow went back to his bed content, and the miller went out and off home again.
When the old fellow and his woman got up in the morning early to go and bury the miller, they found the trick he had played on them, and they were in a pretty rage. But when the breakfast was made this morning, and Donal and all of them sat down, I can tell you the old fellow was in no hurry saying grace, and Donal he got his hearty fill for once in his life anyhow, and so did he at night.
And when Donal was going back home on Monday morning, he leapt the mill-race, and Manis came out, and gave him a cheer. He took Manis’s both hands, and he shook them right hearty.
And every Monday morning after, for the three years that the old fellow lived, Manis always saw Donal leap the mill-race as easy as a sparrow might hop over a rod.
At the end of the three years, the old fellow died, and Donal went to live on the farm altogether, and there was no friend ever came to see him that was more heartily welcomed than Manis the Miller.
Hookedy-Crookedy
ONCE on a time there was a King and Queen in Ireland, and they had one son named Jack, and when Jack grew up to be man big, he rose up one day and said to his father and mother that he would go off and push his fortune.
All his father and mother could say to Jack, they could not keep him from going. So with his staff in his hand and his father’s and mother’s blessing on his head, off he started, and he traveled away far, farther than I could tell you, and twice as far as you could tell me. At length one day, coming up to a big wood, he met a gray-haired old man. The old man asked him, “Jack, where are you going?”
He says, “I am going to push my fortune.”
“Well,” says the old man, says he, “if ’tis looking for service you are, there is a Giant who lives at the other side of that wood that they call the Giant of the Hundred Hills, and I believe he wants a fine, strong, able, clever young fellow like you.”
“Very well,” says Jack, “I will push on to him.”
Push on Jack did, away through the wood, until he got to the other side, and then he saw a big castle, and going up he knocked at the door, and a big Giant came out.
“Welcome, Jack,” says he, “the King of Ireland’s Son! Where are you going and what do you want?”
“I come,” says Jack, “to push my fortune, and am looking for honest service. I have been told,” he says to the Giant of the Hundred Hills, “that you wanted a clean, clever boy like me.”
“Well,” says the Giant, “I am the Giant of the Hundred Hills, and do want such a fine fellow as you. I have to go away every day,” he says, “to battle with another giant at the other end of the world, and when I am away, I want somebody to look after my house and place. If you will be of good, faithful service to me, and do everything I tell you, I will give you a bag of gold at the end of the time.”
Jack promised he would do all that. The Giant then gave him a hearty supper and a good bed, and well he slept that night. In the morning the Giant had him called up before the first lark was in the sky.
“Jack, my brave boy,” says he, “I have got to be off to the other end of the world to-day to fight the Giant of the Four Winds, and it is time you were up and looking after your business. You have got to put this house in order, and look after everything in it until I come back tonight. To every room in the house and to every place about the house you can go, except the stable. My stable door is closed, and on the peril of your life, don’t open it or go into the stable. Keep that in mind.”
Jack said he certainly would. Then the Giant visited the stable, and started off; and as soon as he was gone, Jack went fixing and arranging the house and setting everything in order. And a wonderful house it was to Jack, so big and so great; and after that he went to the castle yard and into every house and building there, except the stable: and when he had visited all the rest of them, he stood before the stable and looked at it a long time. “And I wonder,” says Jack, says he, “I wonder what can be in there, and what is the reason he wants me on the peril of my life not to go into it? I would like to go and peep in, and there certainly would be no harm.”
Every door in and about the Giant’s place was opened by a little ring turning on a pivot in the middle of the door. Forward to the stable door Jack then steps, turns the little ring, and the door flew open. Inside what does Jack see but a mare and a bear standing by the manger, and neither of them eating. There was hay before the bear and meat before the mare.
“Well,” says Jack, “it is no wonder, poor creatures, you are not eatin’. That was a nice blunder of the Giant,” and he stepped in and changed their food, putting hay before the mare and meat before the bear, and at once both of them fell to it and Jack went out and closed the stable door. As he did so his finger stuck in the ring, and he pulled and struggled to get it away, but he could not.
That was a fix for poor Jack, “And by this and by that,” says he, “the Giant will be back and find me stuck here;” so he whips out his knife, and cuts off his finger, and leaves it there.
And when the Giant came home that night, says he to Jack, “Well, Jack, what sort of a day have you had this day, and how did you get along?”
“I had a fine day,” says Jack, “and got along very well indeed.”
“Jack,” says he, “show me your two hands;” and when Jack held out his two hands, the Giant saw one of his fingers gone. He got black in the face with rage when he saw this, and he said, “Jack, did I not warn you on the peril of your life not to go into that stable?”
Poor Jack pleaded all he could, and said he did not mean to, but curiosity got the best of him, and he thought he would open the door and peep in.
Says the Giant, “No man before ever opened that stable door and lived to tell it, and you, too, would be a dead man this minute only for one thing. Your father’s father did my father a great service once. I am the man who never forgets a good thing, and for that service,” says he, “I give you your life and pardon this time; but if you ever do the like again, you won’t live.”
Jack, he promised that surely and surely he would never do the like again. His supper he got that night, and to bed. And at early morning again the Giant had him up, and, “Jack,” says he, “I must be off to the other end of the world again and fight the Giant of the Four Winds. You know your duty is -- look after this house and place and set everything in order about it, and go everywhere you like, only don’t open the stable door or go into the stable, on the peril of your life.”
“I will mind all that,” says Jack.
Then that morning again the Giant visited the stable before he went away. And after the Giant had gone, to his work went Jack, wandering through the house, cleaning and setting everything in order about it, and out into the yard he went, and fixed and arranged everything out there, except the stable. He stood before the stable door a good while this day, and says he to himself, “I wonder how the bear and the mare are doing, and what the Giant did when he went in to see them? I would give a great deal to know,” says he. “I will take a peep in.”
Into the ring of the door he put his finger, and turned it, and looked in, and there he saw the mare and the bear standing as on the day before and neither of them eating. In Jack steps. “And no wonder, poor creatures,” says he,.“you don’t eat, when that is the way the Giant blundered,” he says, after he saw the meat before the mare and the hay before the bear this time also.
Jack then changed the food, putting the hay before the mare and the meat before the bear as it should be, and very soon both the mare and the bear were eating heartily; and then Jack went out. He closed the door, and when he did so, his finger stuck in the ring; and pull and struggle though Jack did, he could not get it out.
“Och, och, och,” says Jack, says he, “I am a dead man to-day surely.”
He whips out his knife, and cuts off his finger, and leaves it there, and ’twas there when the Giant came home that night.
“Well, Jack, my fine boy,” says he, “how have you got on to-day?”
“Oh, finely, finely,” says Jack, says he, holding his hands behind his back all the same.
“Show me your hands, Jack,” says the Giant, “till I see if you wash them and keep them clean always.” And when Jack showed his hands, the Giant got black in the face with rage, and says he. “Didn’t I forgive you your life yesterday for going into that stable, and you promised never to do it again, and here I find you out, once more?”
The Giant ranted and raged for a long time, and then says he, “Because your father’s father did my father such a good turn, I suppose I will have to spare your life this second time; but, Jack,” says he, “if you should live for a hundred years, and spend them all in my service, and it you should then again open that door and put your foot into my stable, that day,” says he, “you will be a dead man as sure as there is a head on you. Mind that!”
Jack, he thanked the Giant very much for sparing his life, and promised that he never, never would again disobey him.
The next morning the Giant had Jack up early, and told him he was going off this day to fight the Giant at the other end of the world, and gave Jack his directions, and warned him just as on the other days. Then he went into the stable before he went away. And when he was gone, Jack went through all the house, and through the whole yard, setting everything in order, and when everything was done, he stood before the stable door.
“I wonder,” says Jack, “how the poor mare and the poor bear are getting along and what the Giant of the Hundred Hills was doing here to-day? I should very much like,” says he, “to take one wee, wee peep in,” and he opened the door.
Jack peeped in, and there the mare and the bear stood looking at each other again, and neither of them taking a morsel. And there was the meat before the mare and the hay before the bear, just as on the other days.
“Poor creatures,” says Jack, “it is no wonder you are not eating, and hungry and hungry you must be.” And forward he steps, and changes the food, putting it as it should be, the hay before the mare and the meat before the bear, and to it both of them fell.
And when he had done this, up speaks the mare, and “Poor Jack,” says she, “I am sorry for you. This night you will be killed surely; and sorry for us, too, I am, for we will be killed as well as you.”
“Oh, Oh, Oh!” says Jack, says he, “that is terrible. Is there nothing we can do?”
“Only one thing,” says the mare.
“What is that ?” says Jack.
“It’s this,” says the mare; “put that saddle and bridle on me, and let us start off and be away, far, far from this country, when the Giant comes back.” And soon Jack had the saddle and bridle on the mare, and on her back he got to start off.
“Oh!” says the bear, speaking up, “both of you are going away to leave me in for all the trouble.”
“No,” says the mare, “we will not do that. Jack,” says she, “take the chains and tie me to the bear.”
Jack tied the mare to the bear with chains that were hanging by, and then the three of them, the mare and the bear and Jack, started, and on and on they went, as fast as they could gallop.
After a long time, says the mare: “Jack, look behind you, and see what you can see.”
Jack looked behind him, and “Oh!” says he, “I see the Giant of the Hundred Hills coming like a raging storm. Very soon he will be on us, and we will all three be murdered.”
Says the mare, says she, “We have a chance yet. Look in my left ear, and see what you can see;” and in her left ear Jack looked, and saw a little chestnut.
“Throw it over your left shoulder,” says the mare.
Jack threw it over his left shoulder, and that minute there arose behind them a chestnut wood ten miles wide. On and on they went that day and that night; and till middle of the next day, “Jack,” says the mare, “look behind you, and see what you can see.”
Jack looked behind him, and “Oh!” says he, “I see the Giant of the Hundred Hills coming tearing after us like a harvest hurricane.”
“Do you see anything strange about him, Jack?” says the mare.
“Yes,” says Jack, says he, “there are as many bushes on the top of his head, and as much fowl stuck about his feet and legs as will keep him in fire-wood and flesh for years to come. We are done for this time, entirely,” says poor Jack.
“Not yet,” says the mare; “there is another chance. Look into my right ear, and see what you can see.”
In the mare’s right ear Jack looked, and found a drop of water.
“Throw it over your left shoulder, Jack,” says the mare, “and see what will happen.”
Over his left shoulder Jack threw it, and all at once a lough sprung up between them and the Giant that was one hundred miles wide every way and one hundred miles deep.