Heigh! It’s not far to Galatz. Heigh!”
He had scarcely gone twenty yards when—bang! An axle-pin broke.
“Well, here’s a to-do!”
“Woe is me! Mosh Nichifor, we shall be benighted in the wood.”
“Don’t take it amiss, Mistress Malca. Come, it’s only happened to me once in my life. While you eat a little something, and the mares put away a bit of fodder, I shall have replaced the axle-pin.”
When old Nichifor came to look at the hook, the little axe had disappeared!
“Well, what has been had to be,” said old Nichifor, knitting his eyebrows, and getting angry as he thought of it. “If God punishes the old woman, may he punish her! See how she takes care of me; there is no axe here.”
When poor Malca heard this she began to sigh and to say:
“Mosh Nichifor, what are we to do?”
“Now, young lady, don’t lose heart, for I have still a ray of hope.”