The Foolish Weaver
: The Orange Fairy Book
Once a weaver, who was in want of work, took service with a certain
farmer as a shepherd.
The farmer, knowing that the man was very slow-witted, gave him most
careful instructions as to everything that he was to do.
Finally he said: 'If a wolf or any wild animal attempts to hurt the
flock you should pick up a big stone like this' (suiting the action to
the word) 'and throw a few such at
im, and he will be afraid and go
away.' The weaver said that he understood, and started with the flocks
to the hillsides where they grazed all day.
By chance in the afternoon a leopard appeared, and the weaver instantly
ran home as fast as he could to get the stones which the farmer had
shown him, to throw at the creature. When he came back all the flock
were scattered or killed, and when the farmer heard the tale he beat
him soundly. 'Were there no stones on the hillside that you should run
back to get them, you senseless one?' he cried; 'you are not fit to
herd sheep. To-day you shall stay at home and mind my old mother who
is sick, perhaps you will be able to drive flies off her face, if you
can't drive beasts away from sheep!'
So, the next day, the weaver was left at home to take care of the
farmer's old sick mother. Now as she lay outside on a bed, it turned
out that the flies became very troublesome, and the weaver looked round
for something to drive them away with; and as he had been told to pick
up the nearest stone to drive the beasts away from the flock, he
thought he would this time show how cleverly he could obey orders.
Accordingly he seized the nearest stone, which was a big, heavy one,
and dashed it at the flies; but, unhappily, he slew the poor old woman
also; and then, being afraid of the wrath of the farmer, he fled and
was not seen again in that neighbourhood.
All that day and all the next night he walked, and at length he came to
a village where a great many weavers lived together.
'You are welcome,' said they. 'Eat and sleep, for to-morrow six of us
start in search of fresh wool to weave, and we pray you to give us your
'Willingly,' answered the weaver. So the next morning the seven
weavers set out to go to the village where they could buy what they
wanted. On the way they had to cross a ravine which lately had been
full of water, but now was quite dry. The weavers, however, were
accustomed to swim over this ravine; therefore, regardless of the fact
that this time it was dry, they stripped, and, tying their clothes on
their heads, they proceeded to swim across the dry sand and rocks that
formed the bed of the ravine. Thus they got to the other side without
further damage than bruised knees and elbows, and as soon as they were
over, one of them began to count the party to make sure that all were
safe there. He counted all except himself, and then cried out that
somebody was missing! This set each of them counting; but each made
the same mistake of counting all except himself, so that they became
certain that one of their party was missing! They ran up and down the
bank of the ravine wringing their hands in great distress and looking
for signs of their lost comrade. There a farmer found them and asked
what was the matter. 'Alas!' said one, 'seven of us started from the
other bank and one must have been drowned on the crossing, as we can
only find six remaining!' The farmer eyed them a minute, and then,
picking up his stick, he dealt each a sounding blow, counting, as he
did so, 'One! two! three!' and so on up to the seven. When the weavers
found that there were seven of them they were overcome with gratitude
to one whom they took for a magician as he could thus make seven out of
an obvious six.
[From the Pushto.]