The Pobratim Part 65

"Bully you, uncle!" said the burly man, in a piteous tone; "only think of my starving children."

"He begrudges his uncle the grub he eats," shrieked the old cat of a cook.

"I'd have given you something, but the proud man should be punished,"

said the wrathful priest, growing purple in the face.

"Oh, uncle, my children!" sobbed the poor man.

"What business has a man to have a brood of brats when he can't earn enough to buy bread for them?" said the cook, aloud, to herself.

"Will you hold your tongue, you cantankerous old cat?" said the smith to the cook.

The old vixen began to howl, and the priest, in his anger, cursed his nephew, telling him that he and his children could starve for all he cared.

The smith thereupon went home, looking as piteous as a tailless turkey-c.o.c.k; and while his children slept and, perhaps, dreamt of _kolaci_, he told his wife the failure he had met with.

"Your uncle is a brute," said she.

"He's a priest, and all priests are brutes, you know."

"Well, I don't know about all of them, for I heard my great-grandmother say that once upon a time there lived----"

"Oh, there are casual exceptions to every rule!" said her husband.

"But, now, what's to be done?"

"Listen," said the wife, who was a shrewd kind of woman; "we can't let the children starve, can we?"

"No, indeed!"

"Then follow my advice. I know of a gra.s.s that, given to a horse, or an ox, or a sheep, or a goat, makes the animal fall down, looking as if it were dead."

"Well, but you don't mean to feed the children with this gra.s.s, do you?" said the smith, not seeing the drift of what she meant.

"No; but you could secretly go and give some to your uncle's fattest ox."

"So," said the husband, scratching his head.

"Once the animal falls down dead, he'll surely give it to you, as no butcher 'll buy it; we'll kill it and thus be provided with meat for a long time. Besides, you can sell the bones, the horns, the hide, and get a little money besides."

"And for to-morrow?"

"I'll manage to borrow a few potatoes and a cup of milk."

On the next day the wife went and got the gra.s.s, and the smith, unseen, managed to go and give it to his uncle's fattest ox. A few hours afterwards the animal was found dead.

On hearing that his finest ox was found in the stable lying stiff and stark the priest nearly had a fit; and his grief was still greater when he found out that not a man in the village would offer him a penny for it, so when his nephew came he was glad enough to give it to him to get rid of it.

The cook, who had prompted the priest to make a present of the ox to his nephew, hoped that the smith and all his family would be poisoned by feeding on carrion flesh.

"But," said the uncle, "bring me back the bones, the horns, and the hide."

To everyone's surprise, and to the old cook's rage, the smith and his children fed on the flesh of the dead ox, and throve on it. After the ox had all been eaten up, the priest lost a goat, and then a goose, in the same way, and the smith and his family ate them up with evident gusto.

After that, the old cook began to suspect foul play on the part of the smith, and she spoke of her suspicions to her master.

The priest got into a great rage, and wanted to go at once to the police and accuse his nephew of sorcery.

"No," said the cook, "we must catch them on the hip, and then we can act."

"But how are we to find them out?"

After brooding over the matter for some days, the cook bethought herself that the best plan would be to shut herself up in a cupboard, and have it taken to the nephew's house.

The priest, having approved of her plan, put it at once into execution.

"I have," said the uncle to the nephew, "an old cupboard which needs repairing; will you take it into your house and keep it for a few days?"

"Willingly," said the nephew, who had not the slightest suspicion of the trap laid to catch him.

The cupboard was brought, and put in the only room the smith possessed; the children looked at it with wonder, for they had never seen such a big piece of furniture before. The wife had some suspicion. Still, she kept her own counsel.

Soon afterwards the remains of the goose were brought on the table, and, as the children licked the bones, the husband and wife discussed what meat they were to have for the forthcoming days--was it to be pork, veal, or turkey?

As they were engrossed with this interesting topic, a slight, shrill sound came out of the cupboard.

"What's that?" said the wife, whose ears were on the alert.

"I didn't hear anything," said the smith.

"_Apshee_," was the sound that came again from the cupboard.

"There, did you hear?" asked the wife.

"Yes; but from where did that unearthly sound come?"

The wife, without speaking, winked at her husband and pointed to the cupboard.

"_Papshee_," was now heard louder than ever.

The children stopped gnawing the goose's bones; they opened their greasy mouths and their eyes to the utmost and looked scared.

"There's some one shut in the cupboard," said the smith, jumping up, and s.n.a.t.c.hing up his tools.

A moment afterwards the door flew open, and to everyone's surprise, except the wife's, the old cook was found standing bolt upright in the empty s.p.a.ce and listening to what they were saying.

The old woman, finding herself discovered, was about to scream, but the smith caught her by the throat and gave her such a powerful squeeze, that before knowing what he was doing, he had choked the cook to death.

The poor man was in despair, for he had never meant to commit a murder--he only wanted to prevent the old shrew from screaming.