Storytelling. The cat that walked by himself and other stories

So he went back to the place where he first found it, and took up the trail of another. After a hunt of over an hour in which he failed to get a shot, he said: “I have followed another traveler. I’ll go back and take up the trail of one that is feeding.”

But again, after a short pursuit, he gave up that one to go back and try another that seemed more promising. Thus he spent a whole day trying each of the trails for a short time, and at night came back to camp with nothing, to find that Chatun, though his inferior in all other ways, had proved wiser. He had stuck doggedly to the trail of the one little Deer, and now had its carcass safely in camp.

Moral: The Prize is always at the end of the trail.

The three wishes

by Katharine Pyle

Once upon a time a poor man took his ax and went out into the forest to cut wood. He was a lazy fellow, so as soon as he was in the forest he began to look about to see which tree would be the easiest to cut down. At last he found one that was hollow inside, as he could tell by knocking upon it with his ax.

“It ought not to take long to cut this down,” said he to himself. He raised his ax and struck the tree such a blow that the splinters flew.

At once, the bark opened and a little old fairy with a long beard came running out of the tree.

“What do you mean by chopping into my house?” he cried; and his eyes shone like red hot sparks, he was so angry.

“I did not know it was your house,” said the man.

“Well, it is my house, and I’ll thank you to let it alone,” cried the fairy.

“Very well,” said the man. “I’d just as lieve cut down some other tree. I’ll chop down the one over yonder.”

“That is well,” said the fairy. “I see that you are an obliging fellow, after all. I have it in my mind to reward you for sparing my house, so the next three wishes you and your wife make shall come true, whatever they are; and that is your reward.”

Then the fairy went back into the tree again and pulled the bark together behind him.

The man stood looking at the tree and scratching his head. “Now that is a curious thing,” said he. Then he sat down and began to wonder what he should wish for. He thought and he thought, but he could decide on nothing. “I’ll just go home and talk it over with my wife,” said he; so he shouldered his ax, and set off for home. As soon as he came in at the door he began to bawl for his wife, and she came in a hurry, for she did not know what had happened to him.

He told his story and his wife listened.

“This is a fine thing to have happen to us,” said she. “Now we must be very careful what we wish for.”

They sat down one on each side of the fire to talk it over. They thought of ever so many things they would like to have – a bag of gold, and a coach and four, and a fine house to live in, and fine clothes to wear, but nothing seemed just the right thing to choose.

They talked so long that they grew hungry.

“Well, here we sit,” said the man, “and not a thing cooked for dinner. I wish we had one of those fine black puddings you used to make.”

No sooner had he spoken than there was a great thumping and bumping in the chimney and a great black pudding fell down on the hearth before him.

“What is this?” cried the man staring.

“Oh, you oaf! You stupid!” shrieked his wife. “It’s the pudding you wished for. There’s one of our wishes wasted. I wish the pudding were stuck on the end of your nose! It would serve you right!”

The moment she said this the pudding flew up and stuck to the man’s nose, and there it was and he couldn’t get it off; the man pulled and tugged, and his wife pulled and tugged, but it was all of no use.

“Well, there’s no help for it,” said the husband; “we’ll have to wish it off again.”

His wife begun to cry and bawl.

“No, no,” she cried. “We only have one wish left, and we can’t waste it that way. Let’s wish ourselves the richest people in the world.”

But to this the man would not agree. He wanted the pudding off his nose, whatever it cost. So at last the wife was obliged to let him have his own way.

“I wish the pudding was off my nose again,” said the man, and that was the third of their wishes.

So all the good they had of the fairy’s gift was a black pudding for dinner; but then it was the best black pudding they had ever eaten.

“And after all,” said the man, “there’s nothing much better in the world to wish for than a full stomach.”

The nail

by Katharine Pyle

A merchant had been trading in a far city and had made much money, which he was now bringing home with him. He rode in haste, for he knew he would not feel easy until he had locked away the gold in his strong room at home.

Toward the middle of the morning, he stopped at an inn to give his horse water.

“Sir,” said the ostler who waited on him, “a nail is loose in your horse’s shoe.”

“No matter,” answered the merchant. “I am in haste, and the shoe must go as it is till I get home.”

A little later he stopped at another inn. “Sir,” said the ostler, “your horse’s shoe is loose; shall I not take him to the blacksmith near by and have the shoe fastened on?”

“No,” answered the merchant, “I have not time to wait. I must be home before nightfall.”

The merchant rode still farther, but presently his horse began to limp. It limped more and more, until at last, in the very midst of a deep forest, it stumbled and fell, and could not get up again.

The merchant was in despair. Dusk was coming on, and there seemed nothing for it but to spend the night in the forest. However, he discovered a house near by, and the old woman who was in charge of it promised him food and a lodging for the night.

When the merchant went up to bed he put his bag of gold under his pillow. He meant to watch all night, but he was very tired, and presently, in spite of himself his eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

Now this house belonged to a band of robbers, and the old woman was their housekeeper. Soon after the merchant was asleep the robbers came home. The housekeeper told them of the rich man who had come to the house while they were away, and of how she had given him a bed for the night.

The robbers went up to the merchant’s room and finding him asleep they stole the bag of money from under his pillow, and made off with it.

In the morning, when the merchant awoke, he felt under his pillow for the bag, but it was gone. He called aloud, but no one answered. He searched the house from top to bottom, but could find nobody.

So the merchant lost both his gold and his horse. “And all,” said he, “because I was in such haste that I would not stop for a nail to be put in my horse’s shoe. It is a true saying – ‘the more haste the less speed.’”

Mother Hulda

by Katharine Pyle

There was once a widow who had two daughters; the elder of the girls was cross and ugly, but the mother loved her dearly because she was exactly like herself, and also because she was her own daughter. The younger girl was only her stepdaughter, and because of this, and also because the girl was good and pretty, the mother hated her, and did all she could to make her miserable.

One day the good daughter sat by the well spinning, and as she spun she wept because she was so unhappy. The tears blinded her eyes, and presently she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood fell on the flax. The girl was frightened, for she feared her stepmother would scold her when she saw the flax, so she stooped over the edge of the well to try to wash the blood off it. But the spindle slipped from her hand and sank down and down through the water until it was lost to sight.