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I’ve got to wait for my money again.”

      “Whom have you sold it to?”

      “To the withered Birch-tree in the forest.”

      “Oh, what an idiot!”

      With that he pitched into it with his hatchet, so that its chips flew about in all directions. Now, in that Birch-tree there was a hollow, and in that hollow some robbers had hidden a pot full of gold. The tree split asunder, and the Simpleton caught sight of the gold. He took as much of it as the skirts of his caftan would hold, and toiled home with it. There he showed his brothers what he had brought.

      “Where did you get such a lot, Simpleton?” said they.

      “A neighbor gave it me for my ox. But this isn’t anything like the whole of it; a good half of it I didn’t bring home with me! Come along, brothers, let’s get the rest!”

      Well, they went into the forest, secured the money, and carried it home.

      “Now mind, Simpleton,” say the sensible brothers, “don’t tell anyone that we’ve such a lot of gold.”

       “Never fear, I won’t tell a soul!”

      “What’s that, brothers, you’re bringing from the forest?”

      The sharp ones replied, “Mushrooms.” But the Simpleton contradicted them, saying:

      “They’re telling lies! we’re carrying money; here, just take a look at it.”

      The Diachok uttered such an “Oh!”—then he flung himself on the gold, and began seizing handfuls of it and stuffing them into his pocket. The Simpleton grew angry, dealt him a blow with his hatchet, and struck him dead.

      “Heigh, Simpleton! what have you been and done!” cried his brothers. “You’re a lost man, and you’ll be the cause of our destruction, too! Wherever shall we put the dead body?”

      They thought and thought, and at last they dragged it to an empty cellar and flung it in there. But later on in the evening the eldest brother said to the second one:—

      “This piece of work is sure to turn out badly. When they begin looking for the Diachok, you’ll see that Simpleton will tell them everything. Let’s kill a goat and bury it in the cellar, and hide the body of the dead man in some other place.”

      Well, they waited till the dead of night; then they killed a goat and flung it into the cellar, but they carried the Diachok to another place and there hid him in the ground. Several days passed, and then people began looking everywhere for the Diachok, asking everyone about him.

      “What do you want him for?” said the Simpleton, when he was asked. “I killed him some time ago with my hatchet, and my brothers carried him into the cellar.”

      Straightway they laid hands on the Simpleton, crying, “Take us there and show him to us.”

       The Simpleton went down into the cellar, got hold of the goat’s head, and asked:—

      “Was your Diachok dark-haired?”

      “He was.”

      “And had he a beard?”

      “Yes, he’d a beard.”

      “And horns?”

      “What horns are you talking about, Simpleton?”

      “Well, see for yourselves,” said he, tossing up the head to them. They looked, saw it was a goat’s, spat in the Simpleton’s face, and went their ways home.

      The Mizgir.[66]

      In the olden years, long long ago, with the spring-tide fair and the summer’s heat there came on the world distress and shame. For gnats and flies began to swarm, biting folks and letting their warm blood flow.

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