The Fox And The Lapp





Once upon a time a fox lay peeping out of his hole, watching the road

that ran by at a little distance, and hoping to see something that might

amuse him, for he was feeling very dull and rather cross. For a long

while he watched in vain; everything seemed asleep, and not even a

bird stirred overhead. The fox grew crosser than ever, and he was just

turning away in disgust from his place when he heard the sound of feet

coming over the snow. He crouched eagerly down at the edge of the road

and said to himself: 'I wonder what would happen if I were to pretend to

be dead! This is a man driving a reindeer sledge, I know the tinkling

of the harness. And at any rate I shall have an adventure, and that is

always something!'



So he stretched himself out by the side of the road, carefully choosing

a spot where the driver could not help seeing him, yet where the

reindeer would not tread on him; and all fell out just as he had

expected. The sledge-driver pulled up sharply, as his eyes lighted on

the beautiful animal lying stiffly beside him, and jumping out he threw

the fox into the bottom of the sledge, where the goods he was carrying

were bound tightly together by ropes. The fox did not move a muscle

though his bones were sore from the fall, and the driver got back to his

seat again and drove on merrily.



But before they had gone very far, the fox, who was near the edge,

contrived to slip over, and when the Laplander saw him stretched out on

the snow he pulled up his reindeer and put the fox into one of the other

sledges that was fastened behind, for it was market-day at the nearest

town, and the man had much to sell.



They drove on a little further, when some noise in the forest made the

man turn his head, just in time to see the fox fall with a heavy thump

on to the frozen snow. 'That beast is bewitched!' he said to himself,

and then he threw the fox into the last sledge of all, which had a cargo

of fishes. This was exactly what the cunning creature wanted, and he

wriggled gently to the front and bit the cord which tied the sledge

to the one before it so that it remained standing in the middle of the

road.



Now there were so many sledges that the Lapp did not notice for a long

while that one was missing; indeed, he would have entered the town

without knowing if snow had not suddenly begun to fall. Then he got down

to secure more firmly the cloths that kept his goods dry, and going to

the end of the long row, discovered that the sledge containing the fish

and the fox was missing. He quickly unharnessed one of his reindeer and

rode back along the way he had come, to find the sledge standing safe in

the middle of the road; but as the fox had bitten off the cord close to

the noose there was no means of moving it away.



The fox meanwhile was enjoying himself mightily. As soon as he had

loosened the sledge, he had taken his favourite fish from among the

piles neatly arranged for sale, and had trotted off to the forest with

it in his mouth. By-and-by he met a bear, who stopped and said: 'Where

did you find that fish, Mr. Fox?'



'Oh, not far off,' answered he; 'I just stuck my tail in the stream

close by the place where the elves dwell, and the fish hung on to it of

itself.'



'Dear me,' snarled the bear, who was hungry and not in a good temper,

'if the fish hung on to your tail, I suppose he will hang on to mine.'



'Yes, certainly, grandfather,' replied the fox, 'if you have patience to

suffer what I suffered.'



'Of course I can,' replied the bear, 'what nonsense you talk! Show me

the way.'



So the fox led him to the bank of a stream, which, being in a warm

place, had only lightly frozen in places, and was at this moment

glittering in the spring sunshine.



'The elves bathe here,' he said, 'and if you put in your tail the fish

will catch hold of it. But it is no use being in a hurry, or you will

spoil everything.'



Then he trotted off, but only went out of sight of the bear, who stood

still on the bank with his tail deep in the water. Soon the sun set and

it grew very cold and the ice formed rapidly, and the bear's tail was

fixed as tight as if a vice had held it; and when the fox saw that

everything had happened just as he had planned it, he called out loudly:



'Be quick, good people, and come with your bows and spears. A bear has

been fishing in your brook!'



And in a moment the whole place was full of little creatures each one

with a tiny bow and a spear hardly big enough for a baby; but both

arrows and spears could sting, as the bear knew very well, and in his

fright he gave such a tug to his tail that it broke short off, and he

rolled away into the forest as fast as his legs could carry him. At this

sight the fox held his sides for laughing, and then scampered away in

another direction. By-and-by he came to a fir tree, and crept into a

hole under the root. After that he did something very strange.



Taking one of his hind feet between his two front paws, he said softly:



'What would you do, my foot, if someone was to betray me?'



'I would run so quickly that he should not catch you.'



'What would you do, mine ear, if someone was to betray me?'



'I would listen so hard that I should hear all his plans.'



'What would you do, my nose, if someone was to betray me?'



'I would smell so sharply that I should know from afar that he was

coming.'



'What would you do, my tail, if someone was to betray me?'



'I would steer you so straight a course that you would soon be beyond

his reach. Let us be off; I feel as if danger was near.'



But the fox was comfortable where he was, and did not hurry himself to

take his tail's advice. And before very long he found he was too late,

for the bear had come round by another path, and guessing where his

enemy was began to scratch at the roots of the tree. The fox made

himself as small as he could, but a scrap of his tail peeped out, and

the bear seized it and held it tight. Then the fox dug his claws into

the ground, but he was not strong enough to pull against the bear, and

slowly he was dragged forth and his body flung over the bear's neck. In

this manner they set out down the road, the fox's tail being always in

the bear's mouth.



After they had gone some way, they passed a tree-stump, on which a

bright coloured woodpecker was tapping.



'Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay

colours,' sighed the fox.



'What are you saying, old fellow?' asked the bear.



'I? Oh, I was saying nothing,' answered the fox drearily. 'Just carry me

to your cave and eat me up as quick as you can.'



The bear was silent, and thought of his supper; and the two continued

their journey till they reached another tree with a woodpecker tapping

on it.



'Ah! those were better times when I used to paint all the birds such gay

colours,' said the fox again to himself.



'Couldn't you paint me too?' asked the bear suddenly.



But the fox shook his head; for he was always acting, even if no one was

there to see him do it.



'You bear pain so badly,' he replied, in a thoughtful voice, 'and

you are impatient besides, and could never put up with all that is

necessary. Why, you would first have to dig a pit, and then twist ropes

of willow, and drive in posts and fill the hole with pitch, and, last of

all, set it on fire. Oh, no; you would never be able to do all that.'



'It does not matter a straw how hard the work is,' answered the bear

eagerly, 'I will do it every bit.' And as he spoke he began tearing up

the earth so fast that soon a deep pit was ready, deep enough to hold

him.



'That is all right,' said the fox at last, 'I see I was mistaken in you.

Now sit here, and I will bind you.' So the bear sat down on the edge

of the pit, and the fox sprang on his back, which he crossed with the

willow ropes, and then set fire to the pitch. It burnt up in an instant,

and caught the bands of willow and the bear's rough hair; but he did not

stir, for he thought that the fox was rubbing the bright colours into

his skin, and that he would soon be as beautiful as a whole meadow of

flowers. But when the fire grew hotter still he moved uneasily from one

foot to the other, saying, imploringly: 'It is getting rather warm, old

man.' But all the answer he got was: 'I thought you would never be able

to suffer pain like those little birds.'



The bear did not like being told that he was not as brave as a bird,

so he set his teeth and resolved to endure anything sooner than speak

again; but by this time the last willow band had burned through, and

with a push the fox sent his victim tumbling into the grass, and ran

off to hide himself in the forest. After a while he stole cautiously and

found, as he expected, nothing left but a few charred bones. These he

picked up and put in a bag, which he slung over his back.



By-and-by he met a Lapp driving his team of reindeer along the road, and

as he drew near, the fox rattled the bones gaily.



'That sounds like silver or gold,' thought the man to himself. And he

said politely to the fox:



'Good-day, friend! What have you got in your bag that makes such a

strange sound?'



'All the wealth my father left me,' answered the fox. 'Do you feel

inclined to bargain?'



'Well, I don't mind,' replied the Lapp, who was a prudent man, and did

not wish the fox to think him too eager; 'but show me first what money

you have got.'



'Ah, but I can't do that,' answered the fox, 'my bag is sealed up. But

if you will give me those three reindeer, you shall take it as it is,

with all its contents.'



The Lapp did not quite like it, but the fox spoke with such an air that

his doubts melted away. He nodded, and stretched out his hand; the fox

put the bag into it, and unharnassed the reindeer he had chosen.



'Oh, I forgot!' he exclaimed, turning round, as he was about to drive

them in the opposite direction, 'you must be sure not to open the bag

until you have gone at least five miles, right on the other side of

those hills out there. If you do, you will find that all the gold and

silver has changed into a parcel of charred bones.' Then he whipped up

his reindeer, and was soon out of sight.



For some time the Lapp was satisfied with hearing the bones rattle,

and thinking to himself what a good bargain he had made, and of all the

things he would buy with the money. But, after a bit, this amusement

ceased to content him, and besides, what was the use of planning when

you did not know for certain how rich you were? Perhaps there might be a

great deal of silver and only a little gold in the bag; or a great deal

of gold, and only a little silver. Who could tell? He would not, of

course, take the money out to count it, for that might bring him bad

luck. But there could be no harm in just one peep! So he slowly broke

the seal, and untied the strings, and, behold, a heap of burnt bones lay

before him! In a minute he knew he had been tricked, and flinging

the bag to the ground in a rage, he ran after the fox as fast as his

snow-shoes would carry him.



Now the fox had guessed exactly what would happen, and was on the look

out. Directly he saw the little speck coming towards him, he wished that

the man's snow-shoes might break, and that very instant the Lapp's shoes

snapped in two. The Lapp did now know that this was the fox's work, but

he had to stop and fetch one of his other reindeer, which he mounted,

and set off again in pursuit of his enemy. The fox soon heard him

coming, and this time he wished that the reindeer might fall and break

its leg. And so it did; and the man felt it was a hopeless chase, and

that he was no match for the fox.



So the fox drove on in peace till he reached the cave where all his

stores were kept, and then he began to wonder whom he could get to help

him kill his reindeer, for though he could steal reindeer he was too

small to kill them. 'After all, it will be quite easy,' thought he,

and he bade a squirrel, who was watching him on a tree close by, take a

message to all the robber beasts of the forest, and in less than half an

hour a great crashing of branches was heard, and bears, wolves, snakes,

mice, frogs, and other creatures came pressing up to the cave.



When they heard why they had been summoned, they declared themselves

ready each one to do his part. The bear took his crossbow from his neck

and shot the reindeer in the chin; and, from that day to this, every

reindeer has a mark in that same spot, which is always known as the

bear's arrow. The wolf shot him in the thigh, and the sign of his arrow

still remains; and so with the mouse and the viper and all the rest,

even the frog; and at the last the reindeer all died. And the fox did

nothing, but looked on.



'I really must go down to the brook and wash myself,' said he (though he

was perfectly clean), and he went under the bank and hid himself behind

a stone. From there he set up the most frightful shrieks, so that the

animals fled away in all directions. Only the mouse and the ermine

remained where they were, for they thought that they were much too small

to be noticed.



The fox continued his shrieks till he felt sure that the animals must

have got to a safe distance; then he crawled out of his hiding-place and

went to the bodies of the reindeer, which he now had all to himself. He

gathered a bundle of sticks for a fire, and was just preparing to cook

a steak, when his enemy, the Lapp, came up, panting with haste and

excitement.



'What are you doing there?' cried he; 'why did you palm off those bones

on me? And why, when you had got the reindeer, did you kill them?'



'Dear brother,' answered the fox with a sob, 'do not blame me for

this misfortune. It is my comrades who have slain them in spite of my

prayers.'



The man made no reply, for the white fur of the ermine, who was

crouching with the mouse behind some stones, had just caught his eye.

He hastily seized the iron hook which hung over the fire and flung it at

the little creature; but the ermine was too quick for him, and the hook

only touched the top of its tail, and that has remained black to this

day. As for the mouse, the Lapp threw a half-burnt stick after him,

and though it was not enough to hurt him, his beautiful white skin was

smeared all over with it, and all the washing in the world would not

make him clean again. And the man would have been wiser if he had let

the ermine and the mouse alone, for when he turned round again he found

he was alone.



Directly the fox noticed that his enemy's attention had wandered from

himself he watched his chance, and stole softly away till he had reached

a clump of thick bushes, when he ran as fast as he could, till he

reached a river, where a man was mending his boat.



'Oh, I wish, I wish, I had a boat to mend too!' he cried, sitting up on

his hind-legs and looking into the man's face.



'Stop your silly chatter!' answered the man crossly, 'or I will give you



a bath in the river.'



'Oh, I wish, I do wish, I had a boat to mend,' cried the fox again, as

if he had not heard. And the man grew angry and seized him by the tail,

and threw him far out in the stream close to the edge of an island;

which was just what the fox wanted. He easily scrambled up, and sitting

on the top, he called: 'Hasten, hasten, O fishes, and carry me to

the other side!' And the fishes left the stones where they had been

sleeping, and the pools where they had been feeding, and hurried to see

who could get to the island first.



'I have won,' shouted the pike. 'Jump on my back, dear fox, and you will

find yourself in a trice on the opposite shore.'



'No, thank you,' answered the fox, 'your back is much too weak for me. I

should break it.'



'Try mine,' said the eel, who had wriggled to the front.



'No, thank you,' replied the fox again, 'I should slip over your head

and be drowned.'



'You won't slip on MY back,' said the perch, coming forward.



'No; but you are really TOO rough,' returned the fox.



'Well, you can have no fault to find with ME,' put in the trout.



'Good gracious! are YOU here?' exclaimed the fox. 'But I'm afraid to

trust myself to you either.'



At this moment a fine salmon swam slowly up.



'Ah, yes, you are the person I want,' said the fox; 'but come near, so

that I may get on your back, without wetting my feet.'



So the salmon swam close under the island, and when he was touching it

the fox seized him in his claws and drew him out of the water, and put

him on a spit, while he kindled a fire to cook him by. When everything

was ready, and the water in the pot was getting hot, he popped him

in, and waited till he thought the salmon was nearly boiled. But as he

stooped down the water gave a sudden fizzle, and splashed into the fox's

eyes, blinding him. He started backwards with a cry of pain, and sat

still for some minutes, rocking himself to and fro. When he was a little

better he rose and walked down a road till he met a grouse, who stopped

and asked what was the matter.



'Have you a pair of eyes anywhere about you?' asked the fox politely.



'No, I am afraid I haven't,' answered the grouse, and passed on.



A little while after the fox heard the buzzing of an early bee, whom a

gleam of sun had tempted out.



'Do you happen to have an extra pair of eyes anywhere?' asked the fox.



'I am sorry to say I have only those I am using,' replied the bee. And

the fox went on till he nearly fell over an asp who was gliding across

the road.



'I should be SO glad if you would tell me where I could get a pair of

eyes,' said the fox. 'I suppose you don't happen to have any you could

lend me?'



'Well, if you only want them for a short time, perhaps I could manage,'

answered the asp; 'but I can't do without them for long.'



'Oh, it is only for a very short time that I need them,' said the fox;

'I have a pair of my own just behind that hill, and when I find them I

will bring yours back to you. Perhaps you will keep these till them.'

So he took the eyes out of his own head and popped them into the head of

the asp, and put the asp's eyes in their place. As he was running off he

cried over his shoulder: 'As long as the world lasts the asps' eyes will

go down in the heads of foxes from generation to generation.'



And so it has been; and if you look at the eyes of an asp you will see

that they are all burnt; and though thousands and thousands of years

have gone by since the fox was going about playing tricks upon everybody

he met, the asp still bears the traces of the day when the sly creature

cooked the salmon.





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