Now the first day, Massang went to the hunt, and took with him the white-coloured man and the green-coloured man; the black-coloured man being thus left in charge of the homestead, set himself to prepare the dinner. He had made the butter, and sat with the milk simmering, cooking the meat[1], when he heard a rustling sound as of one approaching stealthily. Looking round to discover who came there, he saw a little old woman not more than a span high, carrying a bundle no bigger than an apple on her back, coming up a ladder she had set ready for herself, without asking leave or making any sort of ceremony.
“Lackaday!” cried the little old woman, speaking to herself, “methinks I see a youngster cooking good food.” But to him she said in a commanding tone, “Listen to me now, and give me some of thy milk and meat to taste.”
Though she was so small, she wore such a weird, uncanny air that the black-coloured man, though he had boasted of being a full-grown man of good understanding, durst not say her “Nay;” though he contented himself with keeping to the letter of her behest, and only gave her the smallest possible morsel of the food he had prepared, only just enough, as she had said, “to taste.” But lo and behold! no sooner had she put the morsel to her lips than the whole portion disappeared, meat, milk, pot and all; and, more marvellous still, the little old wife had disappeared with them.
Ashamed at finding himself thus overmatched by such a little old wench, he reasoned with himself that he must invent something to tell his companions which should have a more imposing sound than the sorry story of what had actually occurred. Turning over all his belongings to help himself to an idea, he found two horse’s-hoofs, and with these he made the marks as of many horsemen all round the dwelling, and then shot his own arrow into the middle of the yard.
He had hardly finished these preparations when his companions came home from the hunt.
“Where is our meal?” inquired they. “Where is the butter you were to have made, and the meat you were to have cooked?”
“Scarcely had I made all ready,” replied the black-coloured man, “than a hundred strange men, on a hundred wild horses, came tearing through the place; and what could I do to withstand a hundred? Thus they have taken all the butter, and milk, and meat, and me they beat and bound, so that I have had enough to do to set myself free, and scarcely can I move from the effect of their blows. Go out now and see for yourselves.”
So they went out; and when they saw the marks of the horses’-hoofs all round the dwelling, and the arrow shot into the middle of the courtyard, they said, “He hath spoken true things.”
The next day Massang went to the hunt, and took with him the black-coloured man and the white-coloured man. The green-coloured man being thus left in charge of the homestead, set himself to prepare the dinner; and it was no sooner ready than the little old wife came in, as she had done the day before, and played the same game.
“This is doubtless how it fell out with the black-coloured man,” said he to himself, as soon as she was gone; “but neither can I own that I was matched by such a little old wife, nor yet can I tell the same story about the horsemen. I know what I will do: I will fetch up a yoke of oxen, and make them tramp about the place, and when the others come home, I will say some men came by with a herd of cattle, and, overpowering me, carried off the victuals.” All this he did; and when his companions came home, and saw for themselves the marks the oxen had made in tramping up the soil, they said, “He hath spoken true things.”