The Marvellous History of the Shadowless Man and The Cold Heart Part 9

"He is the lord of this forest," answered the old man, "and for one of your age not to have heard of him tells me that your home lies on the other side of the Pine-grove, or even farther off. But I will relate to you what I know of Dutch Michael, and what people say of him. About a hundred years ago, at least, so my grandfather told me, there were no more honourable people than the Black-Foresters in the whole world. But now that money is so plentiful, dishonesty and evil are everywhere. Our young lads dance and riot on the Sabbath, and swear terribly. But formerly it was quite otherwise, and, though he himself were to look through the window at this moment, I say, as I have said time and again, that Dutch Michael is to blame for all the mischief. Well--one hundred or more years ago, there lived a rich timber merchant who had a very large business; he traded far away down the Rhine, and his affairs prospered, for he was a good Christian. One evening there came to his door a man, the like of whom he had never cast eyes upon. He was dressed as one of our young Black-Foresters, but was a good head taller than any of them; indeed, one could hardly have believed that there was such a giant in existence. The fellow asked the merchant for work, and the latter, seeing how strong and capable of doing heavy work he looked, was ready to engage him at a fair wage. So the matter was agreed upon. Michael turned out to be a workman such as that merchant had never yet employed. He was equal to three men at felling trees, and where it took six men to carry one end of a trunk, he could manage the other end all by himself. But after six months at tree-felling, he went one day to his master, and demanded of him: 'I have been hewing wood long enough in this place, and I would like to know where the felled trunks go; how would it be if you were to let me go for a time on one of your rafts?'"

The timber merchant replied: "I won't stand in your way, Michael, if you want to see a bit of the world. It's true that I am in sore need of strong fellows like yourself for the tree-felling, while on the rafts it is more a question of skill. For this once, however, you may go!"

And thus it was; the raft upon which he was to go was in eight parts, the last part being composed of enormous roof-beams. But what happened?

The night before starting, this huge fellow brought down to the water yet another eight beams, bigger and longer than any that had ever been seen, so much so that everybody was amazed. And no one knows to this day where he had felled them. The merchant chuckled to himself when he calculated the price these beams would fetch. But Michael said: "These are for me to travel upon, for I could not make any headway on those little splinters."

His grateful master then wished to present him with a pair of raftsmen's boots, but Michael put them aside, and brought forth another pair, such as had never before been made. My grandfather used to declare that they must have weighed a hundred pounds, and were five feet in length.

The raft went on its way, and as Michael had hitherto astonished the wood-cutters, he now caused the raftsmen to marvel; for the raft, instead of going more slowly down the stream, as one would have thought, taking the monstrous baulks into consideration, it simply flew forward like an arrow as soon as it reached the Neckar. And when it came to a bend in the river where otherwise the raftsmen would have had trouble to keep the raft in mid-stream or to prevent it from stranding, Michael would spring into the water, and with one push would force the raft to left or right, so that it escaped danger; and if they came to a shallow, he ran to the forepart of the raft, made them all lay aside their poles, laid a huge round beam on the sandbank, and with one push the raft sped over, so fast that land, trees and villages seemed to fly past. Thus they came to Cologne in about half the time it usually takes. Here it was that the wood was always sold at that time; but Michael addressed the raftsmen: "I can see that you are all good business men, and know how to manage your affairs to the best advantage! Do you suppose that here in Cologne they want all the timber which comes from the Black Forest for their own use? Not at all: they buy it from you at half its value, and then sell it at a higher price in Holland. Let us sell our smaller beams here, and then go on to Holland with the big ones; and what we receive above the usual price will be for our own profit."

Thus spoke the cunning Michael, and the others agreed; some because they wished to go to Holland, others for the sake of the money. There was only one honest man among them, and he tried to dissuade them from risking their master's goods, and from cheating him out of any higher price they might get. But they would not listen to him, and soon forgot the words he had said; though Dutch Michael did not forget them.

The raft continued its journey down the Rhine with Michael in command, so that it soon arrived at Rotterdam. There they received about four times the price usually obtained, while Michael's huge baulks fetched an enormous sum of money. When the Black Foresters saw so much gold they could scarcely contain themselves for joy. Michael divided the money into four parts, setting aside one for the master, and dividing the remainder among the men. With this they mixed with sailors and evil characters, spending their money in dissipation and debauchery in the taverns. As to the honest man, who had warned them, Dutch Michael is said to have sold him to a slave-dealer, for nothing more was ever heard of him.

From that day forth Holland has been the paradise of our Black Forest lads; the timber merchants knew nothing of this trade, and all the while money, swearing, evil habits, drink and gambling were being introduced by the raftsmen from Holland.

Dutch Michael, so the story goes, disappeared and was nowhere to be found; but it is certain that he did not die. For one hundred years his spirit has haunted the forest, and it is said that he has helped many to become rich, at the cost of their poor souls, of which I would rather not say any more. This much is certain, that on such stormy nights as this he is up in the Pine-grove, where no one fells trees, selecting the biggest pines. And my father has seen him take hold of one, four to five feet in thickness, and snap it as one would a reed.

This is his gift to those who turn from the straight path to go to him; at midnight they carry their timber to the water, and fare away on it into Holland. Oh, if I were only king and lord of Holland, I would send him to the bottom with grape-shot; for every ship, the hull of which contains one single beam of Dutch Michael's felling, must come to grief. And that is the reason why one hears of so many shipwrecks; how otherwise could a fine, strong ship, as big as a church, sink in the open sea? Every time Dutch Michael fells a pine on a stormy night in the Black Forest, one of his old ones is sprung from the bottom of some ship, the water rushes in, and that ship with all on board is lost.

Such is the story of Dutch Michael, and it is but the truth when people declare that he is the author of all the evil which is committed in the Black Forest!

"Ah! he can make you rich enough!" continued the old man, confidentially. "But I would receive nothing at his hands, not for all the gold in the world would I stand in the shoes of Fat Ezekiel or the Lanky Schlurker. And it is also thought that the Dance-King is one of his familiars."

The storm had abated during the recital of the old man's story; the girls lit the lamps, and stole away; the men gave Peter Munk a sack full of leaves to serve as a pillow, and left him to sleep on the hearth, wishing him good-night as they went.

Never in his life had Charcoal-Peter dreamed so heavily as during that night. First there appeared to him the dark gigantic form of Dutch Michael, who wrenched open the window and stretched an enormously long arm into the room, in the hand of which was a purse full of gold pieces, which he shook so that the money jingled temptingly. Then he saw the little, friendly Gla.s.smanikin riding round the room on a huge green bottle, and he seemed again to hear that hoa.r.s.e chuckle he had heard in the Pine-grove. Then it was as if someone was murmuring in his left ear:

"From Holland comes Gold!

Canst have it, if bold.

For payment soon told!

Gold! Gold!"

Then again in his right ear he heard the little rhyme beginning:

"Guardian of gold in the pine tree wold!"

and a soft voice whispered: "Stupid Charcoal-Peter! silly Peter Munk!

cannot you find a rhyme to 'grow,' and yet you were born at noon on a Sunday! Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Peter's dream in the woodman's cottage.]

He sighed and groaned in his sleep, he tried hard to find a rhyme; but as he had never been able to make one when awake, to do so in a dream was equally beyond him. But when he awoke with the first flush of dawn, his dream seemed to have been very wonderful; he sat with folded arms at the table, and thought of the whispered exhortation which still resounded in his ear: "Rhyme, stupid Charcoal-Peter, rhyme!" he repeated to himself, pressing his finger to his forehead; but no rhyme was forthcoming. But while he sat there, staring despondently in front of him and trying to think of a rhyme to "grow," three lads pa.s.sed the house on their way through the forest, and one of them was singing as he trudged along:

"To the mountains there above, To the heights where pine-trees grow, I go to meet my love; She's true to me, I know."

The words thrilled Peter's senses like a flash of lightning. He leapt to his feet and rushed out of the house, for he was not sure whether he had caught the words correctly. He ran after the three lads, and seized the singer by the arm.

"Stop, my friend!" he cried, "what was it you made to rhyme with 'grow'? For the love of Heaven tell me what you were singing?"

"What ever is the matter with you?" demanded the Black Forester. "I can sing what I like--and if you don't leave go of my arm, I'll----"

"Not till you tell me what you were singing," screamed Peter, nearly beside himself, and gripping the other more tightly by the arm.

Seeing which, the two friends of the singer lost all patience, and started punching the wretched Peter with all their might until the pain he suffered forced him to loose his hold and to sink to his knees.

"Have you had enough?" they asked him, while laughing at him. "Take care, you foolish fellow, that in future you do not molest people on the public highway."

"Ah, I will be careful enough as to that," replied Charcoal-Peter, dismally. "But now that you have beaten me, be so good as to repeat slowly and distinctly what that friend of yours was singing."

At which all three once more burst out laughing, making game of him; but the singer repeated the words of his song for him, and, laughing and singing, they went their way.

"Then _know_ is the word," said Peter Munk, getting once more on to his legs. "_Know_ rhymes with _grow_--and now Master Gla.s.smanikin we will have another little chat together."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Have you had enough?" they asked him.]

He returned to the cottage, took his hat and long stick, bade farewell to the cottagers, and strode away in the direction of the pine-grove.

Becoming engrossed in thought, he slackened his speed, for it had occurred to him that, now he had found a rhyme, he must complete the verse. At length, approaching the Pine-grove, and reaching the part where the trees grow taller and denser, he completed the missing line, and his delight caused him to bound into the air. At the same moment there stepped from behind a pine a gigantic man, dressed as a raftsman, and with a pole as big as a ship's mast in his hand. Peter Munk sank in terror to his knees, as he saw the stranger striding slowly towards him. He felt that this could be none other than Dutch Michael. No sound came from the terrible apparition, while Peter stole fearful glances at him every now and then. He towered a full head above the tallest man whom Peter had ever seen; his features were not youthful in appearance, neither did he look old, though his face was a ma.s.s of wrinkles and furrows. He wore a linen jerkin, and his huge boots, which were drawn up well over his leather knee-breeches, were exactly as they had been described to Peter.

"Peter Munk! what are you doing in the Pine-grove?" asked the lord of the forest, at last, in deep, threatening tones.

"Good morning, countryman," answered Peter, trying to conceal his terror, but trembling violently all the same. "I am going home through the Pine-grove."

"Peter Munk," rejoined the other, surveying him with a terrible penetrating look. "Your way lies not through this glade."

"You are quite right," said Peter, "but it is so hot to-day, and I thought it would be cooler here."

"Utter no falsehoods, Charcoal-Peter!" thundered Dutch Michael; "or I will strike you to earth with my staff! Do you think that I have not seen you begging of that pigmy yonder?" And he continued in more gentle tones: "Go to! Go to! that was a silly thing to do, and well it was for you that you did not know the incantation. He is a n.i.g.g.ard, that little fellow, and gives but little; and those to whom he gives have not enough wherewith to enjoy themselves. Peter, you are a poor simpleton, and my heart grieves for you; such a brave and handsome fellow as you are, one who should make his mark in the world, and yet but a charcoal-burner! While others can throw away whole armsful of thalers and ducats, you have but a few farthings to spend;--'tis a wretched existence."

"True! true! You are right! 'Tis a miserable life!"

"Well, it is no fault of mine," pursued the terrible Michael; "I have already rescued many a brave fellow from misery, and you would not be the first. Tell me: how many hundred thalers do you want to begin with?"

As he spoke Michael rattled the money in his huge pocket, and the sound of it was as in the dream overnight. But his words caused Peter's heart to quake fearfully and painfully in his breast, he went hot and cold, for he did not look as one who offers gold out of compa.s.sion without expecting something in exchange.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Peter Munk, what are you doing in the pine grove?]

There flashed into his mind the mysterious words of the old man when speaking of those who had become rich, whereupon, seized with indefinable horror and dread, he exclaimed: "Many thanks, good sir! but I would rather have nothing to do with you; I have heard enough of you already!" Saying which, he turned and ran away as fast as he could.

But the Forest demon, taking enormous strides, kept at his side, muttering in a dull and threatening voice: "You will repent this, Peter--so stands it written on your brow; I can read it in your eyes!

_You cannot escape me!_--Run not so fast: hearken to a word of reason; yonder is the boundary of my domain."

Hearing this and seeing not far ahead a little ditch, Peter redoubled his speed in order to cross it and escape, and Michael was compelled to hurry in order to keep up with him, cursing and muttering threats the while. On coming to the ditch, the lad made a desperate leap, for he perceived that the demon had raised his staff to crush him with it.

Luckily he managed to jump the ditch, and as he did so the staff flew into splinters as though it had struck against an invisible wall, while a large piece of it fell at Peter's feet.

He seized it, turning triumphantly to hurl it at the brutal Dutch Michael; but, in the same moment, he felt the wood moving in his hand, and discovered to his horror that he had hold of a huge snake, which was rearing its head at him with venomous tongue and glittering eyes.

He loosened his grasp of it; but it had already entwined itself about his arm, bringing its swaying head nearer and nearer to his face. Then, in a flash, a monstrous woodc.o.c.k swept down from above, seized the snake in its beak, and bore it aloft in the air. Dutch Michael, who had been watching the scene from the further side of the ditch, howled and shouted and raved as he saw the snake overpowered by this powerful antagonist.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Then, in a flash, a monstrous woodc.o.c.k swept down from above and seized the snake in its beak."]