the birdcatcher and his family.—how the children return home with rare treasures.—nutcracker's dead body.—the little maiden in the stork's nest, and who she was.—affecting reconciliation on the nutfield.—threatening danger to the rootmen.—emigration of the rootmen.
At the time when all these wonderful occurrences happened, there lived at the entrance of this forest an old Birdcatcher and his family. During the two years since he had settled here, his business had prospered remarkably; and, especially in the Spring and Autumn, so many birds had been taken in his nets, that he had earned many a bright dollar, and had laid by many a spare penny.
Now once on a Spring day a heavy rain had fallen, and, strange to say, ever since that time not a bird was longer to be seen there: every morning the Birdcatcher found his nets torn, his limed twigs destroyed, and even his screech-owl and other decoy-birds had vanished from their cages and perches. And yet he knew well enough there lived no other man in the whole forest who could have done all this.
One day he had sent his children with the cart deep into the forest, to fetch brushwood. Evening came on, and they did not return. It already began to grow dark, and as they still had not come back, his anxiety increased, and he determined to go in search of them. He had just crossed the threshold, when suddenly he heard a shouting and singing at a distance in the wood. Joyous sounds! it was his dear children, who were dragging and pushing along the little cart, piled up and closely packed.
"You good-for-nothing little brats, where have you been all this time?" he exclaimed, half angrily, though overjoyed. But they laughed, and removing the green brushwood with which they had covered the loaded cart, they exclaimed, quite red in the face with delight, "Only see, father, what we have here!" And, lo and behold, the cart was filled from top to bottom with broken, bent, and gnaw'd playthings!
And now they went on to tell the whole story of their treasures; and amidst a Babel of voices, all speaking together, one louder than another, the sum and substance of the story was this. After losing their way, they had wandered about till they came to a narrow, smooth dale, which lost itself like a footpath in the wood. The ground was all wet and miry from the rain. Suddenly, to their amazement, they found all these splendid things scattered about in radiant confusion; and, had not the sun already sunk behind the pine-trees, they would have followed the path still further. It seemed to have no end, but disappeared deep in the thicket, and, as far as they could see, it was all bestrewn with similar treasures.
The story seemed strange to their father, and he resolved to follow the path they spoke of the next day, hoping in his own mind to discover a track of the culprit who had decoyed away the birds and torn his nets.
The next morning, as soon as the dawn glimmered through the still forest, the Birdcatcher's whole family were on their way with the wood-cart to the dale; and, truly enough, there they found everything as the children had described.
"Look, look, father! there is another splendid little wooden fellow!" exclaimed the youngest child, raking out of the mire a little Nutcracker, bedaubed with mud, his colours all washed off, and his pedestal lost.
"Heyday! what a face the fellow has, and what a mouth, and what goggling eyes!" cried all the children in one voice.