IThe Giant and the Herdboy

Ivan, the herdboy, lay on the hillside watching the King’s sheep. It was growing dark, but he did not start for home. For in all the world he had no home to go to. There was no one who belonged to him,—neither father nor mother, nor brother nor sister, nor grandfather nor grandmother, nor so much as a stepmother. Even his best friends, the sheep, belonged to the King.

Ivan took good care of them nevertheless; and got his black bread and white cheese to eat in return. Day and night he stayed with his flock out in the open field; and only when the storm beat down very wet did he crawl into the little hut he had built at the edge of the forest.

It was not so very lonely after all. For there were ninety-nine sheep to keep out of bogs and briers. And besides, there were ever so many good games he could play by himself, vaulting over the bushes with his crook and playing little tunes on a reed.

It was only at the dead of night when he woke up to hear the wolves howling, howling in the dark, and the icy shivers began to chase each other along his back, that he couldn’t help wishing for a warm bed at home, with a stout father sleeping nearby.

But the queer part was that whenever he thought what kind of father he should like to have, he could think of nobody but the King himself mounted on his charger. And as for a mother, who could be better than the Queen with her nice, motherly arms that hugged the little Princess Anastasia? When it came to a sister, Ivan could imagine no one more satisfactory than the Princess herself with her whisking curls and her blue eyes that were roguish and friendly both at the same time. But that, of course, was out of the question. So he contented himself with naming the softest, whitest, curliest lamb Anastasia, and let it go at that.

But to-night as he lay on the hillside he couldn’t help thinking what fun it would be if the lamb Anastasia were really the Princess, and all the other sheep wereboys and girls so that they could play hide-and-seek together among the rocks and bushes in the moonlight. But the sheep had long since nestled down on the hill, and there was nothing for Ivan but to watch the moon as it came up and up behind the black mountain across the valley. His eyes began to blink, and he felt himself slipping, slipping off to sleep.

Ivan listened

A cry broke through the quiet pasture. Ivan started up. “Wolves!” said his heart. “Wolves! Wolves again!” But it was not a fierce sound after all. Again it came, loud like a roar of temper wailing off into a moan.

Ivan listened. “No sheep could bleat like that,” thought he. Nevertheless he looked. There in the moonlight the nine-and-ninety woolly shapes shone dimly, huddled safely against the hill.

Once more the sound came, fairly bursting through the air. Ivan held his breath. It was not the cry of animals but of men, of several men perhaps, shouting together. “A party of hunters,” thought Ivan, “lost in the forest!” And he breathed again.

Picking up his crook, he dashed off up the hill, along the edge of the wood. “I’m coming!” he shouted. “Coming!” But the hunters did not seem to hear. The same cry kept ringing through the trees ahead, louder at every step he ran. It seemed directly opposite him now, somewhere in the forest. He turned in, feeling his way with his crook among the black shadows of the branches.

There was a crashing and stirring. The trees before him trembled. Ivan stopped and looked up. Full in the moonlight, half way to the treetops, gleamed the gigantic shoulder of a man. His head was bent, and he seemed to be sitting down, gazing intently at something near the ground. As he moved his arm, the trees swayed and creaked.

Ivan crept nearer. Through an opening between the trees he could see the giant’s great hands fumbling over his foot. With a piece of fur he was trying to stop a small cataract of blood that was bursting out from it. Every now and then, in his clumsy efforts, he seemed to hurt himself more, for he would throw backhis head and give the same deafening howl Ivan had heard before.

Ivan shivered. In all his life he had never seen a giant; and terrified as he was, he must have a good look at this one. Crouching, he stole through the shadow to a little thicket at the giant’s side, and parting the twigs, leaned eagerly forward. But he had reckoned too much on the bushes. Under his weight they cracked and bent, and snapped altogether. His foot slipped, and losing his balance, he crashed through the brush at the giant’s very elbow.

With a swoop the giant grasped at him. But Ivan was too quick. He dodged just out of reach, and ran as he had never run before.

“Little creature! Little creature!” called the giant, “don’t run away. I won’t hurt you. Come back, do come back and help me. If you will bind up my foot for me, I will give you a reward.”

Ivan’s heart thumped. The giant could crush him in one of his great hands. But he was in pain, and he had a kindly face. It would be mean to leave him there alone.

“Oh, little creature,” moaned the giant again, “don’t leave me. I promise I won’t hurt you. Do come, do come.”

Ivan turned. Stanchly he walked over to the giant’s foot, and running his hand gently along the sole, picked the rocks and pebbles out of the great gash.

The giant sighed with relief. “Thank you!” he said. “I hurt it rooting up an oak-tree, and then I walked on it.”

Ivan pulled off his blouse, and tore it into long pieces. Knotting them together, he made a strip five or six yards long. He laid it against the wound, and the giant drew it over the top of the foot where it was hard for him to reach. Between them they made a neat, firm bandage of it, with all the knots on top.

The giant beamed. “That feels better,” he said. “And now, little herdboy, I will show you how a giant keeps his word. If you are not afraid to sit upon my shoulder, I will take you where no little creature has ever been: to see a giants’ merrymaking. We are holding a wedding-feast now, and there will be plenty of fun, you may be sure. Come, I will take good care of you.”

Ivan picked up his crook. This would be more fun than hide-and-seek on the hill. He was not in the least afraid, and he felt on good terms with the giant already. “I’dliketo go,” he said.

“Good! Good!” cried the giant, chuckling with the noise of a happy waterfall. “Up with you, then. Leanagainst my neck, and take tight hold of my long hair.” And with that, he picked Ivan gently up and tucked him snugly just below his right ear.

The giants danced

“Why, you’re too light! I can’t feel you at all!” he gurgled, as if it were the best joke in the world. “And I must fix it so that my brothers can’tseeyou. Here is a belt for you. Put it on, and you will be quite invisible.”

So he handed Ivan a long piece of gray gauze, so fine that in the moonlight he could hardly see it at all. Ivan tied it about his waist. And then although he pinched himself and knew quite well that he was all there, he couldn’t so much as see his own toes.

As for the giant, now that he could neither see Ivan nor feel his weight, he began to be a little nervous. “Once in a while,” he said, “I wish you’d stand up and shout my name ‘Costan’ into my ear, so that I’ll know you haven’t tumbled off. And now, are you ready? Hold tight, and we’ll go on.”

Costan raised himself, and strode off with a long, limping step through the forest. To Ivan it was like being on a great ship at sea, going up a long wave, and down. He felt that he might fall asleep if it were not such fun sitting there on Costan’s shoulder and watching the treetops glide past the moon.

The trees grew fewer and fewer. Ivan swung around, and peered ahead, clinging to Costan’s hair. They were coming to a great open space in the midst of the forest, a meadow thronged with giants and giantesses. There seemed to be hundreds of them, dressed not like Costan in skins but in wonderful shimmering garments that blew about their shoulders like clouds of mist in the moonlight. In the center of them all was a huge fountain that shot up in a silver torrent far above their heads.

One of the giants came running to meet Costan. “Oh, here you are!” he cried. “We were afraid you weren’t coming.” And with that, he gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder that nearly sent Ivan spinning off a hundred feet or more to the ground.

Costan explained about his hurt foot. “I’ll just sit and look on for to-night,” he said, and chuckled to himself, thinking of Ivan.

A fountain that shot up in a silver torrent

And so Ivan, safely nestled on Costan’s shoulder, watched till his eyes stood out, as the giants danced and played giant games, chasing each other through the fountain, with a shower of spray like a whirling rainstorm. They wrestled, they leaped, they sang till all the trees trembled.

She pulled up a fir-tree

Just as the fun was at its liveliest, there was a mighty gurgle, and the fountain, which had been casting itselfso high into the air, sank suddenly into the earth. The oldest giantess of all gathered her great fluttering robes about her, and striding to the edge of the forest, pulled up a fir-tree with one wrench of her wrist.

“Midnight!” whispered Costan.

Silently the giants crowded about the uprooted tree.

“Este tennes!” cried the giantess.

They cut into the ground like huge knives

Instantly the giants seemed to flatten out. Their backs seemed to come forward, and their fronts to shrink back. Their arms, their legs, their heads, their bodies,grew thin as cardboard. They stood there like great paper-dolls, taller than the trees. One by one, they stepped into the hole where the tree had been, and cut their way down into the ground like huge knives.

Costan bent his ear. “Are you there, little herdboy?” he whispered.

“Yes, Costan,” cried Ivan.

“Keep tight hold, then,” cautioned Costan, “and don’t be afraid. I’m going to take you with me underground.”

As the last giant vanished, Costan got up slowly and walked toward the hole. With every step, Ivan could feel him shrinking, until his shoulder was nothing but a long, thin edge.

There was a quick moment of darkness, and suddenly they were in a hall shining from floor to ceiling with gold, and so vast that Ivan could not see to the end of it. Down the center, around a long table sat the giants, all in their natural shapes again.

Costan slipped into the huge seat that was left for him, and the banquet went merrily on. To Ivan, who never in all his life had had anything but bread and cheese, with a little fruit sometimes and a sugar cake at Christmas, it seemed an impossible dream. There were grapes as big as the oranges above ground, pheasantsthe size of eagles, and cakes and tarts and puddings as big around as the towers of the King’s palace.

But Costan sat silent and uneasy. Then Ivan realized what was the matter:Costan was not sure that Ivan was there. Steadying himself with his crook, Ivan scrambled up. Standing on tiptoe, he could almost reach the giant’s ear.

“Costan!” he whispered, as loud as he dared, “I’m here,—all safe.”

Costan beamed with relief, and fell to joking and eating with the rest. But every now and then he would poise a tiny piece of cake or meat carelessly above his right shoulder, where Ivan would make it disappear as completely as he had himself.

At last the oldest giantess rose in her place, to show that the banquet had come to an end. Amid all the jollity and confusion Costan leaned over and took from the table a giant roll, as big to Ivan as a whole loaf of bread.

“Here!” he whispered, below the scraping of the giant chairs. “Tuck this in your bag, little herdboy, as a reminder of a giant’s promise. And don’t forget Costan in the world up above.”

As he spoke, everything was suddenly lost in a whirl of darkness,—the giants, the hall and the feast, evenCostan himself. The shouts and laughter of the huge banqueters grew fainter and fainter till they faded away into silence.

A sudden bleat made Ivan open his eyes. He was lying on the hillside near his sheep, and the mountain across the valley glowed red in the sunrise.

“And so,” thought Ivan sadly, “it was a dream after all,—the giants, the fountain, the banquet, and dear Costan as well.”

He reached for his crook, and started back in amazement. For though he could feel the handle tightly grasped in his fingers, it seemed to his startled eyes that the crook suddenly rose up of itself and stood clearly outlined against the morning sky. As he stepped back, the crook sprang after him. When he walked forward, the crook bobbed along by his side. He could feel his hand upon it, but when he looked he could see plainly that there was no hand there.

Ivan rubbed his eyes. Was he still dreaming then? But no, everything was just as usual,—the sheep, the hillside and the morning sky. Was it he or the crook that was bewitched? He looked down at himself in alarm,—and saw nothing but the stones and grass of the pasture.There was no Ivan to be seen: no arms nor hands nor legs nor feet.

A sudden thought came over him. He felt of his waist. Sure enough! It was tied about with gauze.

“The invisible belt!” he cried, and pulled it off.

In a twinkling there he was, arms, legs, hands, feet, just the same as ever. He folded up the long, wispy sash and stuck it into his bag. Inside, his hand hit something hard and bulgy. It was the giant’s roll,—the great loaf Costan had given him.

It was past Ivan’s breakfast time, and the sight of the tempting white bread made him hungry. He tried to break off a piece, but the great roll would not so much as bend. He drew out his knife, but the harder he cut, the firmer and sounder the loaf seemed to be. He could not even dent it.

Provoked and impatient, he tried with his teeth. At the first bite, the hard crust yielded. Something cold and slippery struck his tongue and rolled out clinking on the ground.

Ivan stooped and stared. There at his feet lay a great round gold-piece as big as a peppermint-drop. In amazement he looked at the loaf in his hand. There was not a break anywhere. It was as smooth and whole as before. He bit again and again. Another gold-piece, and another, fell at his feet, as round and shining as the first. But the loaf remained unbroken.

Ivan’s eyes almost started from his head. In all his life he had never seen a gold-piece before; and whatever he should do with so many he had not the least idea. He might, of course, build a palace and live like a lord. But that would take him away from the sheep, and the King and Queen and Anastasia. On the whole, he decided he was much better as he was, where he could roll the gold-pieces down the hill and race after them to the bottom.

Then a splendid idea struck him. To-morrow was the Princess’ birthday. For a long time he had been wondering what he could give her. Here was just the thing! What could be better than a heap of the pretty gold-pieces to play with? He sat down at once, and bit and bit at the loaf till he had enough of them to fill his bag to overflowing. Bag, loaf, belt, and all, he hid in his hut at the edge of the forest. Then he ate his black bread and cheese and went back to his sheep, bounding over the boulders for sheer happiness.

As soon as the sheep were settled for the night, he ran to the hut again. Tying the magic belt about his waist, he took up the bag of gold-pieces and trudged off with them across the fields.

In the moonlight the palace towers rose straight and shining. Every window gleamed, darkly outlined.Ivan did not hesitate. He knew quite well which one he wanted. It was the window of the Birthday Room, where once every year all the servants and the shepherds were allowed to come to see Anastasia’s presents. To-morrow, he thought, with a catch of his breath, would be the day.

The bulky form of a guard broke the bright wall of the palace ahead. For an instant Ivan shrank back. Then with a smothered laugh he dashed across the grass, underneath the man’s very nose. The guard turned sharply. But there was no one to be seen. Palace and park lay bright and still in the moonlight.

Ivan had gained the palace wall. Just as he had remembered, a stout vine with the trunk of a small tree ran up the side to the very window of the Birthday Room. He tried it with his foot. It would not have held a man, but it could bear Ivan even with a bag of gold. Breathless, he climbed,—so fast that the vine had barely time to tremble before he was at the top. At his shoulder the casement of the Birthday Room stood ajar. With one tug he swung it open, and leaned across the sill.

Ivan gazed. On broad chests all about the room glimmered jewels and toys for the Princess; and in the doorway stood a guard, erect and silent, watching over them.Underneath the window, deep in shadow, was a low, cushioned seat.

Every window gleamed

Something jangled on the floor; and the guard stooped to pick up a knife fallen from his belt. Instantly, Ivan saw his chance. Holding his bag, bottom up, on the window seat, he loosened the strings, letting the gold fall in a heap in the black shadow. By the time theguard had adjusted his belt again, Ivan was out of the window, climbing down the vine.

Next morning, everything was a-buzz at the palace. The servants and shepherds, filing around the Birthday Room, barely glanced at the gorgeous jewels. Every eye was fixed on a glittering pile of gold-pieces in a glass case. They were worth a king’s fortune, people said. The Princess could buy with them anything in the world her heart desired,—castles or coaches, jewels or gowns. And the mystery of it was, no one knew who had sent them. They had suddenly appeared in the middle of the night. The whole court was alive with conjectures.

Ivan, filing by with the others, said never a word; but his heart thumped with pride and happiness. Through a half-open door he could see Anastasia herself using four of the great round gold-pieces as dishes for her dolls. Ivan beamed. To-morrow, he decided, the Princess should have a birthday as well as to-day.

As soon as it was dark, he hurried to his hut, drew out the magic loaf from its hiding-place, and bit and bit till he had a bagful of gold-pieces again. Then he put on his invisible belt and ran to the palace. Everything happened almost as before; and he got away, down the vine, and back to his sheep before any one was the wiser.

On the window-seat next morning the Princess found the shining heap. And if the court had been excited before, now it was in an uproar of astonishment. Hereafter, the King ordered, two guards should stand hidden beside the window to discover who it was that brought the gold.

So night after night for a week Ivan left the gold-pieces. And morning after morning the guards reported to the King that no one had been there. The window, they said, had suddenly swung open; and a bag, jumping unaided from the sill, had emptied itself on the seat below, disappearing through the window as magically as it had come. At last the King, tired of the mystery, declared that he would watch himself.

The eighth night was dark and rainy, and Ivan slipped over the soggy ground. When he got to the entrance of the park, he realized with a dreadful sinking of his heart that he had forgotten to put on the magic belt. He turned to go back, but the thought of the dismal, stormy walk made him suddenly bold. The palace-guards, he reflected, would be keeping close to shelter, a night like this. He could easily escape them, and crawl up the vine unsuspected. Once at the window, he had only to watch his chance, pop in the gold, and fly back in the darkness to his sheep.

So Ivan kept on. He stole softly by the guard-house where the lazy soldier lounged half asleep, and crept stealthily up the dripping vine. The window swung open with a creak, and Ivan, frightened, crouched breathless beneath the sill. Minutes passed. There was a stir behind one of the great curtains. The guard was moving. Now perhaps would be the best time.

Ivan reached over and began emptying his bag. A heavy hand seized his collar and dragged him bodily into the room. By the light of a flickering lantern Ivan found himself face to face with—the King!

“Ivan!” exclaimed the King.

There was a pause, Ivan blushing like a culprit, with the empty bag trembling in his hands.

The King frowned. “To think that you,” he cried, “my best herdboy, whom I have trusted, should come to steal the gold which a good fairy brings the Princess! Well, you have given me good service before this, and I will not treat you harshly now. But go, go at once, and never let me see your face again.”

And with that, he led him down a staircase and thrust him out into the dark.

Choking and wretched, Ivan ran back to his hut. Gathering up his loaf and belt, he crammed them into his bag, and started off into the world.

“Good-by, my sheep!” he cried; and stooped to fondle the little lamb Anastasia.

“I suppose now,” he reflected miserably, “I shall have to be a great lord after all.”

By the time he got to the town, day was breaking. The rain had stopped, and rosy clouds floated across the eastern sky. A sunbeam slanted over the roof tops, and shone into Ivan’s face. He felt happier all of a sudden; and taking his loaf, he bit a dozen great gold-pieces out of it. Then wrapping it up in the magic belt so that no one could see it, he knocked at a cottage door. Inside, he found a warm breakfast, and dried himself off by the fire.

A dazzling scheme slowly unfolded in his mind. As soon as breakfast was done, he went to the coachmaker and ordered a great gold coach; to the tailor and ordered a golden suit; to the hatter for a hat with golden plumes. And when the tradespeople heard the clink of his gold-pieces, they were very glad to serve him, you may be sure.

Only the coachmaker demurred. “A gold coach is nothing,” said he, “without a coat-of-arms on the door.”

“But I haven’t any,” said Ivan.

“Never mind!” replied the coachmaker, “I will make you one. How did your good-luck begin?”

“From a loaf of bread,” said Ivan, “and a giant.”

So, the coachmaker painted and painted on the coach-door. When he had finished, there was as fine a coat-of-arms as you would wish to see,—a loaf of bread against a background of gold-pieces, and a giant standing up above.

Ivan’s coat-of-arms

Then six white horses with gold trappings were harnessed to the coach; and six servants in golden livery took their places,—two riding ahead, two riding behind, and two sitting up very straight on the box. Ivan stepped inside, all dressed in his golden suit and the hat with the golden plumes. Underneath his arm he carried the giant’s loaf wrapped up in the magic belt. (But of course nobody could see that.)

“Drive to the King’s palace!” cried Ivan.

So they drove; and all the people along the way wereso amazed at the magnificence of the coach that they ran and told the King that some great prince was coming to visit him. The King dashed to put on his crown; and just as the coach drew up at the palace gate, he got seated on his throne with all his court about him.

So they drove

Ivan walked up the great hall and bowed low. And all the courtiers bowed in return to the splendid young prince. Before the King could say a word, Ivan threw back his head and told the story of the gold-pieces from beginning to end.

For a moment the King was dumb with astonishment and remorse. Then he spoke. “Ivan,” said he, “I have done you a wrong. If there is anything I can do to make it right, you have only to tell me.”

Ivan beamed. “There is only one thing in all theworld I want,” he cried, “and that is to have you for my father, the Queen for my mother, and Anastasia for my sister!”

“Where is your real father?” asked the King.

“And where is your real mother?” asked the Queen.

“Where is your real sister?” cried Anastasia.

But to all these questions the herdboy gave a satisfactory answer. “I never had any,” he said.

“Very well then,” cried the King. “You areadopted! I will be your father; the Queen shall be your mother; Anastasia shall be your sister. What is more, in five years and a day, when you are quite grown-up, you shall marry the Princess!”

But by the time he got to that part Ivan and Anastasia were too much excited to hear. The minute he finished they bowed and curtsied as well-mannered children should, and ran into the courtyard to play tiddledywinks with the gold-pieces, over the bread.

Nevertheless, it turned out as the King had said, and in five years and a day, when they were quite grown-up, Ivan and the Princess were married. And ever after in the palace-treasury instead of heaps of gold-pieces for robbers to steal, there was nothing but a single loaf of bread.

—Based on a Hungarian Folk-tale.

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