'Tell us now, Father Martin, did you go to the mountain and find what the spirit promised you; or is it a fable?'
'Nay, nay,' answered the graybeard.'I cannot tell if the spectre lied, for never a step did I go towards finding the hollow, for two reasons:--one was that my neck was too precious for me to risk it in such a snare as that; the other, that no one could ever tell me where the spring-root was to be found.'
Then Blaize, another aged shepherd, lifted up his voice.
"Tis a pity, Father Martin, that your secret has grown old with you.
If you had told it forty years ago truly you would not long have been lacking the spring-root.Even though you will never climb the mountain now, I will tell you, for a joke, how it is to be found.The easiest way to get it is by the help of a black woodpecker.Look, in the spring, where she builds her nest in a hole in a tree, and when the time comes for her brood to fly off block up the entrance to the nest with a hard sod, and lurk in ambush behind the tree till the bird returns to feed her nestlings.When she perceives that she cannot get into her nest she will fly round the tree uttering cries of distress, and then dart off towards the sun-setting.When you see her do this, take a scarlet cloak, or if that be lacking to you, buy a few yards of scarlet cloth, and hurry back to the tree before the woodpecker returns with the spring-root in her beak.So soon as she touches with the root the sod that blocks the nest, it will fly violently out of the hole.Then spread the red cloth quickly under the tree, so that the woodpecker may think it is a fire, and in her terror drop the root.Some people really light a fire and strew spikenard blossoms in it; but that is a clumsy method, for if the flames do not shoot up at the right moment away will fly the woodpecker, carrying the root with her.'
The party had listened with interest to this speech, but by the time it was ended the hour was late, and they went their ways homeward, leaving only one man who had sat unheeded in a corner the whole evening through.
Master Peter Bloch had once been a prosperous innkeeper, and a master-cook; but he had gone steadily down in the world for some time, and was now quite poor.
Formerly he had been a merry fellow, fond of a joke, and in the art of cooking had no equal in the town.He could make fish-jelly, and quince fritters, and even wafer-cakes; and he gilded the ears of all his boars' heads.Peter had looked about him for a wife early in life, but unluckily his choice fell upon a woman whose evil tongue was well known in the town.Ilse was hated by everybody, and the young folks would go miles out of their way rather than meet her, for she had some ill-word for everyone.Therefore, when Master Peter came along, and let himself be taken in by her boasted skill as a housewife, she jumped at his offer, and they were married the next day.But they had not got home before they began to quarrel.
In the joy of his heart Peter had tasted freely of his own good wine, and as the bride hung upon his arm he stumbled and fell, dragging her down with him; whereupon she beat him soundly, and the neighbours said truly that things did not promise well for Master Peter's comfort.Even when the ill-matched couple were presently blessed with children, his happiness was but short lived, the savage temper of his quarrelsome wife seemed to blight them from the first, and they died like little kids in a cold winter.
Though Master Peter had no great wealth to leave behind him, still it was sad to him to be childless; and he would bemoan himself to his friends, when he laid one baby after another in the grave, saying:
'The lightning has been among the cherry-blossoms again, so there will be no fruit to grow ripe.'
But, by-and-by, he had a little daughter so strong and healthy that neither her mother's temper nor her father's spoiling could keep her from growing up tall and beautiful.Meanwhile the fortunes of the family had changed.From his youth up, Master Peter had hated trouble; when he had money he spent it freely, and fed all the hungry folk who asked him for bread.If his pockets were empty he borrowed of his neighbours, but he always took good care to prevent his scolding wife from finding out that he had done so.His motto was: 'It will all come right in the end'; but what it did come to was ruin for Master Peter.He was at his wits' end to know how to earn an honest living, for try as he might ill-luck seemed to pursue him, and he lost one post after another, till at last all he could do was to carry sacks of corn to the mill for his wife, who scolded him well if he was slow about it, and grudged him his portion of food.
This grieved the tender heart of his pretty daughter, who loved him dearly, and was the comfort of his life.
Peter was thinking of her as he sat in the inn kitchen and heard the shepherds talking about the buried treasure, and for her sake he resolved to go and seek for it.Before he rose from the landlord's arm-chair his plan was made, and Master Peter went home more joyful and full of hope than he had been for many a long day; but on the way he suddenly remembered that he was not yet possessed of the magic spring-root, and he stole into the house with a heavy heart, and threw himself down upon his hard straw bed.He could neither sleep nor rest; but as soon as it was light he got up and wrote down exactly all that was to be done to find the treasure, that he might not forget anything, and when it lay clear and plain before his eyes he comforted himself with the thought that, though he must do the rough work for his wife during one more winter at least, he would not have to tread the path to the mill for the rest of his life.
Soon he heard his wife's harsh voice singing its morning song as she went about her household affairs, scolding her daughter the while.
She burst open his door while he was still dressing: 'Well, Toper!'
was her greeting, 'have you been drinking all night, wasting money that you steal from my housekeeping? For shame, drunkard!'
