V
That night, having disposed of Taras, the third little Devilkin came to help his mates plague Ivan, as they had agreed. He came to the ploughed field and looked and looked, but could see no one; he only found the hole. Then he went to the meadow and found a piece of tail in the swamp, and in the rye-stubble field he found another hole.
“I see some misfortune has happened to my mates. I must take their places and tackle the Fool.”
The Devilkin set out to find Ivan.
Ivan had finished his work in the fields and had gone into the copse to cut wood.
The brothers found it too crowded to live together in their father’s house and they ordered Ivan to fell timber to build themselves new houses.
The Devilkin rushed into the wood and crept into the knots of the trees to prevent Ivan from felling them.
Ivan had cut a tree in the right way so that it should fall on to a clear space, but the tree seemed to be possessed, and fell over where it was not wanted, and got entangled among the branches. Ivan lopped them off with his bill-hook and at last, with great difficulty, brought down the tree. He began to fell another and the same thing was repeated. He struggled and struggled and succeeded only after great exertion. He began on a third and the same thing happened. Ivan had intended to fell fifty trees at least, and he had not managed more than ten, and night was coming on. Ivan was exhausted, and the steam rose from him and floated through the wood like a mist; yet still he would not give up. He felled another tree and his back began to ache so that he could not go on. He stuck his axe into the trunk of a tree and sat down to rest.
When the Devilkin realized that Ivan had ceased to work, he rejoiced. “He is worn out at last,” he thought; “now I can rest too.” And he sat himself astride on a branch, exulting.
Ivan rose, took out his axe, flourished it aloft, and brought it down so heavily that the tree came down with a crash. The Devilkin had no time to disentangle his legs; the branch broke and pinned down his paw.
Ivan began to clear the tree and behold! there was a live Devilkin. Ivan was amazed.
“You horrid little wretch! You here again!”
“I am not the same one,” the Devilkin said. “I belong to your brother Taras.”
“Whoever you may be, you shall share the same fate.” And Ivan raised the axe to bring it down on its head, but the Devilkin began to plead.
“Don’t kill me,” he said, “and I’ll do whatever you want me to.”
“What can you do?”
“I can make as much money as you like.”
“Very well,” Ivan said; “make it, then.”
And the Devilkin taught him what to do.
“Take some leaves from this oak and rub them in your hands and gold will fall to the ground.”
Ivan took the leaves and rubbed them in his hand and gold rained down.
“This is well,” he said; “on holidays it will amuse the children.”
“Let me go,” the Devilkin begged.
“I don’t mind,” Ivan said, and taking up his axe, he freed the Devilkin of the branch. “Go, in God’s name.”
At the mention of God the Devilkin plunged into the ground like a stone thrown into water and there was nothing but the hole left.
VI
The brothers built themselves houses and began to live apart. Ivan finished his work in the fields, brewed some beer and invited his brothers to a feast. The brothers did not accept his invitation.
“We do not go to feast with peasants,” they said.
Ivan treated the peasants and the peasant-women and drank himself until he got tipsy, and he went into the street and joined the dancers and singers. He approached the women, and bade them sing his praises.
“I will give you something you have never seen in your lives,” he said.
The women laughed and began to sing his praises, and when they had finished, they said, “Well, give us what you promised.”
“I will bring it in a moment,” Ivan said, and he took his seed-basket and ran into the wood.
The women laughed. “What a fool!” they said, and forgot all about him, when behold! Ivan returned, his basket full of something.
“Shall I share it out?”
“Do.”
Ivan took up a handful of gold and threw it to the women. Heavens! The women rushed to pick it up, the peasants after them, snatching it out of each others’ hands. One old woman was nearly killed in the fray.
Ivan laughed.
“You fools!” he said. “Why did you hurt Granny? If you are not so rough I’ll give you some more.”
He scattered more gold. The whole village came up. Ivan emptied his basket. The people asked for more, but he said, “Not now; another time I’ll give you more. Now let us dance. You play some songs.”
The women began to play.
“I don’t like your songs,” Ivan said.
“Do you know any better ones?”
“You shall see in a moment.”
Ivan went into a barn, took up a sheaf, thrashed it, stood it up, and banged it on the floor, and said —
My slave bids you be a sheaf no more.
Every straw contained in you
Must turn into a soldier true.
And the sheaf burst asunder and turned into soldiers, and the drummers and buglers played at their head. Ivan asked the soldiers to play some songs, and led them into the street. The people were amazed.
When the soldiers had played their songs Ivan took them back into the barn, forbidding any one to follow. He turned the soldiers into a sheaf again and threw it on a pile of straw, then he went home and lay down to sleep in the stables.
VII
Simon the Warrior heard of these things next morning, and went to his brother.
“Tell me,” he said, “where did you get the soldiers from, and where did you take them to?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“Matter, indeed! With soldiers one can do anything. One can conquer a kingdom.”
Ivan wondered.
“Really! Then why didn’t you tell me before?” he said. “I will make you as many soldiers as you like. It is well Malania and I have threshed so much straw.”
Ivan took his brother to the barn and said, “Look here, if I make the soldiers you must take them away at once, for if we have to feed them they will eat up the whole village in a day.”
Simon the Warrior promised to take the soldiers away, and Ivan began to make them. He banged a sheaf on the threshing-floor and a company appeared. He banged another sheaf and a second company appeared. He made so many soldiers that they filled the whole field.
“Are there enough now?” he asked.
Simon was overjoyed and said, “That will do, Ivan, thank you.”
“Very well. If you want more, come back and I’ll make them for you. There is plenty of straw this year.”
Simon the Warrior soon put his troops in order, and went away to make war.
He had no sooner gone than Taras the Pot-bellied came along. He, too, had heard of yesterday’s affair and he said to his brother, “Tell me where you get gold money from. If only I could get hold of some I could make it bring in money from the whole world.”
Ivan