The huntsman grumbled, and Bruin grunted, as they followed slowly after; when to their great joy they saw the woodman, before he had gone many yards, pull up his horse once more and turn round. “Stay, stay!” said he; “I think I can tell you of a plan better than sleeping in a ditch. I know where you may find shelter, if you will run the risk of a little trouble from an unlucky imp, that has taken up its abode in my old house down the hill yonder. You must know, friend, that till last winter I lived in yon snug little house that you will see at the foot of the hill if you come this way. Everything went smoothly on with us till one unlucky night, when the storm blew as it seems likely to do to-night, some spiteful guest took it into his head to pay us a visit; and there have ever since been such noises, clattering, and scampering up stairs and down, from midnight till the cock crows in the morning, that at last we were fairly driven out of house and home. What he is like no one knows; for we never saw him or anything belonging to him, except a little crooked high-heeled shoe, that he left one night in the pantry. But though we have not seen him, we know he has a hand or a paw as heavy as lead; for when it pleases him to lay it upon any one, down he goes as if the blacksmith’s hammer had hit him. There is no end of his monkeytricks. If the linen is hung out to dry, he cuts the line. If he wants a cup of ale, he leaves the tap running. If the fowls are shut up, he lets them loose. He puts the pig into the garden, rides upon the cows, and turns the horses into the hay-yard; and several times he nearly burnt the house down, by leaving a candle alight among the faggots. And then he is sometimes so nimble and active, that when he is once in motion, nothing stands still around him. Dishes and plates—pots and pans—dance about, clattering, making the most horrible music, and breaking each other to pieces: and sometimes, when the whim takes him, the chairs and tables seem as if they were alive, and dancing a hornpipe, or playing battledore and shuttlecock together. Even the stones and beams of thehouse seem rattling against one another; and it is of no use putting things in order, for the first freak the imp took would turn everything upside down again.
“My wife and I bore such a lodger as long as we could, but at length we were fairly beaten; and as he seemed to have taken up his abode in the house, we thought it best to give up to him what he wanted: and the little rascal knew what we were about when we were moving, and seemed afraid we should not go soon enough. So he helped us off: for on the morning we were to start, as we were going to put our goods upon the waggon, there it stood before the door ready loaded: and when we started we heard a loud laugh; and a little sharp voice cried out of the window, ‘Good-bye, neighbours!’ So now he has our old house all to himself to play his gambols in, whenever he likes to sleep within doors; and we have built ourselves a snug cottage on the other side of the hill, where we live as well as we can, though we have no great room to make merry in. Now if you, and your ugly friend there, like to run the hazard of taking up your quarters in the elf’s house, pray do! Yonder is the road. He may not be at home to-night.”
“We will try our luck,” said Gunter: “anything is better to my mind than sleeping out of doors such a night as this. Your troublesome neighbour will perhaps think so too, and we may have to fight for our lodging: but never mind, Bruin is rather an awkward hand to quarrel with; and the goblin may perhaps find a worse welcome from him than your house-dog could give him. He will at any rate let him know what a bear’s hug is; for I dare say he has not been far enough north to know much about it yet.”
Then the woodman gave Gunter a faggot to make his fire with, and wished him a good-night. He and the bear soon found their way to the deserted house; and no one being at home they walked into the kitchen and made a capital fire.
“Lack-a-day!” said the Norseman; “I forgot one thing—Iought to have asked that good man for some supper; I have nothing left but some dry bread. However, this is better than sleeping in the woods: we must make the most of what we have, keep ourselves warm, and get to bed as soon as we can.” So after eating up all their crusts, and drinking some water from the well close by, the huntsman wrapt himself up close in his cloak, and lay down in the snuggest corner he could find. Bruin rolled himself up in the corner of the wide fire-place; and both were fast asleep, the fire out, and everything quiet within doors, long before midnight.
Just as the clock struck twelve the storm began to get louder—the wind blew—a slight noise within the room wakened the huntsman, and all on a sudden in popped a little ugly skrattel, scarce three spans high; with a hump on his back, a face like a dried pippin, a nose like a ripe mulberry, and an eye that had lost its neighbour. He had high-heeled shoes, and a pointed red cap; and came dragging after him a nice fat kid, ready skinned, and fit for roasting. “A rough night this,” grumbled the goblin to himself; “but, thanks to that booby woodman, I’ve a house to myself: and now for a hot supper and a glass of good ale till the cock crows.”
No sooner said than done: the skrattel busied himself about, here and there; presently the fire blazed up, the kid was put on the spit and turned merrily round. A keg of ale made its appearance from a closet: the cloth was laid, and the kid was soon dished up for eating. Then the little imp, in the joy of his heart, rubbed his hands, tossed up his red cap, danced before the hearth, and sang his song—
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,In the shivery midnight blast;And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride,Hungry and cold,On the wintry wold,Where the drifting snow falls fast.“But ’tis cheery enough to revel by night,In the crackling faggot’s light:’Tis merry enough to have and to holdThe savoury roast,And the nut-brown toast,With jolly good ale and old.”
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,In the shivery midnight blast;And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride,Hungry and cold,On the wintry wold,Where the drifting snow falls fast.“But ’tis cheery enough to revel by night,In the crackling faggot’s light:’Tis merry enough to have and to holdThe savoury roast,And the nut-brown toast,With jolly good ale and old.”
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,In the shivery midnight blast;And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride,Hungry and cold,On the wintry wold,Where the drifting snow falls fast.
“Oh! ’tis weary enough abroad to bide,
In the shivery midnight blast;
And ’tis dreary enough alone to ride,
Hungry and cold,
On the wintry wold,
Where the drifting snow falls fast.
“But ’tis cheery enough to revel by night,In the crackling faggot’s light:’Tis merry enough to have and to holdThe savoury roast,And the nut-brown toast,With jolly good ale and old.”
“But ’tis cheery enough to revel by night,
In the crackling faggot’s light:
’Tis merry enough to have and to hold
The savoury roast,
And the nut-brown toast,
With jolly good ale and old.”
The huntsman lay snug all this time; sometimes quaking, in dread of getting into trouble, and sometimes licking his lips at the savoury supper before him, and half in the mind to fight for it with the imp. However, he kept himself quiet in his corner; till all of a sudden the little man’s eye wandered from his cheering ale-cup to Bruin’s carcase, as he lay rolled up like a ball, fast asleep in the chimney-corner.
The imp turned round sharp in an instant, and crept softly nearer and nearer to where Bruin lay, looking at him very closely, and not able to make out what in the world he was. “One of the family, I suppose!” said he to himself. But just then Bruin gave his ears a shake, and showed a little of his shaggy muzzle. “Oh ho!” said the imp, “that’s all, is it? But what a large one! Where could he come from? and how came he here? What shall I do? Shall I let him alone or drive him out? Perhaps he may do me some mischief, and I am not afraid of mice or rats. So here goes! I have driven all the rest of the live stock out of the house, and why should I be afraid of sending this brute after them?”
With that the elf walked softly to the corner of the room, and taking up the spit, stole back on tip-toe till he got quite close to the bear; then raising up his weapon, down came a rattling thump across Bruin’s mazard, that sounded as hollow as a drum. The bear raised himself slowly up, snorted, shook his head, then scratched it,—opened first one eye, then the other, took a turn across the room, and grinned at his enemy; who, somewhat alarmed, ran back a few paces, and stood with the spit in his hand, foreseeing a rough attack. And it soon came; for the bear, rearing himself up, walked leisurely forward, andputting out one of his paws caught hold of the spit, jerked it out of the goblin’s hand, and sent it spinning to the other end of the kitchen.
And now began a fierce battle. This way and that way flew tables and chairs, pots and pans. The elf was one moment on the bear’s back, lugging his ears and pommelling him with blows that might have felled an ox. In the next, the bear would throw him up in the air, and treat him as he came down with a hug that would make the little imp squall. Then up he would jump upon one of the beams out of Bruin’s reach; and soon, watching his chance, would be down astride upon his back.
Meantime Gunter had become sadly frightened, and seeing the oven door open, crept in for shelter from the fray, and lay there quaking for fear. The struggle went on thus a long time, without its seeming at all clear who would get the better—biting, scratching, hugging, clawing, roaring, and growling, till the whole house rang. The elf, however, seemed to grow weaker and weaker: the rivals stood for a moment as if to get breath, and the bear was getting ready for a fierce attack, when, all in a moment, the skrattel dashed his red cap right in his eye, and while Bruin was smarting with the blow and trying to recover his sight, darted to the door, and was out of sight in a moment, though the wind blew, the rain pattered, and the storm raged, in a merciless manner.
“Well done! Bravo, Bruin!” cried the huntsman, as he crawled out of the oven, and ran and bolted the door: “thou hast combed his locks rarely; and as for thine own ears, they are rather the worse for pulling. But come, let us make the best of the good cheer our friend has left us!” So saying, they fell to and ate a hearty supper. The huntsman, wishing the skrattel a good night and pleasant dreams in a cup of his sparkling ale, laid himself down and slept till morning; and Bruin tried to do the same, as well as his aching bones would let him.
In the morning the huntsman made ready to set out on his way: and had not got far from the door before he metthe woodman, who was eager to hear how he had passed the night. Then Gunter told him how he had been awakened, what sort of creature the elf was, and how he and Bruin had fought it out. “Let us hope,” said he, “you will now be well rid of the gentleman: I suspect he will not come where he is likely to get any more of Bruin’s hugs; and thus you will be well paid for your entertainment of us, which, to tell the truth, was none of the best: for if your ugly little tenant had not brought his supper with him, we should have had but empty stomachs this morning.”