The gypsies stood in tents. There were two brothers and young women in the camp. One day a family came to visit them - distant relatives, husband and wife. One of the brothers says to the guest:
- You know what, you help us. We want to go get some hay. There is no grass yet, but the horses must eat something. I know that near the neighboring village, at the very edge of the forest, there are haystacks.
- What are you saying? What do you suggest? Does this mean I should steal hay with you?
- It’s okay, my brother, that you’re afraid, let’s go.
“Nothing, more...,” the second brother supported.
We decided to go closer to night, and during the day the brothers and their wives decided to scare the guest. They realized that he had never participated in such matters.
Not long before this, an old gypsy woman, their dear aunt, died in the camp. So everyone was afraid of the deceased. There were rumors that she walked around at night dressed all in white.
So the brothers agreed that their wives would put on white sheets and sit under the bridge, and on the way back, when the cart went over the bridge, they would jump out and scare the guy.
No sooner said than done. As soon as evening came, the brothers and the guest went for hay, and the gypsies dressed all in white and hid under the bridge. They sit there and wait for the gypsies to go back.
And one of the brothers ran ahead and hid under a haystack. A guest comes, let go of the reins, approaches the hay - as if taking his own. He puts hay on the reins. Suddenly, from under the haystack, a voice is heard:
- Don’t take the hay... Don’t take the hay! How the gypsy started to run, and the voice came after him again:
- Don’t take the hay!.. Don’t take the hay, but get on a horse and ride with God! – the voice is exactly like that of a deceased old woman.
The gypsy threw the reins and ran to his brother-in-law.
“My brother, the dead old woman doesn’t tell me to take the hay.” By God, she's hiding under a haystack.
- What are you, more, God bless you, where does the old woman come from? They buried her, buried her as expected, go get some hay.
“I won’t go, even if you kill me, I won’t go.”
- Well, at least bring the reins back, look, he left the reins.
He asked his gypsy brother-in-law to go with him, but he didn’t go.
“Go,” he says, “on your own, don’t be afraid, I’ll wait for you here.”
There is nothing to do. The gypsy had to sneak behind the reins. He grabbed the very end and ran away. He ran to the horse, out of breath.
- My dear, let's drive quickly! The heart is beating, just like that, it will jump out of the chest.
- Well, sit down, let's go.
They drive, and the road leads them to a bridge. Lo and behold, a white figure crawls out from under the bridge, followed by another.
- Look, the old woman ran ahead of us. What a sin.
- What, more, are you crazy, or what? If there was an old woman, then she would be one, but here there are two! Drive on, more, further... Just when the gypsy wanted to drive onto the bridge, he looked - there was a pole stretched across the bridge, blocking the road.
“Let the horse go,” says the brother-in-law, “break the pole.”
“What are you saying, more, the old woman deliberately blocked the road, she doesn’t want to let you through.”
- Go, what are you afraid of? - the brother-in-law shouted and whipped the horse.
How the horse carried, how it rose! She broke the pole with her chest and galloped up the slope. The brother-in-law jumped off the cart and rolled down the cliff and ran towards the tents. The gypsy looked around and his heart sank. Ghosts are running after him.
- Well, my dear, help me out, for God’s sake! - the gypsy cried, and the horse went even faster.
A gypsy entered a village, and there was a man walking around, beating with a mallet, and guarding it, that is.
“Darling,” the gypsy ran up to him, “my dear, oh, what a deal,” and he told him everything. And how they took the hay, and how they met the old deceased woman, and not just one, but two.
- Did you take a lot of hay?
-What kind of hay do you want? Was it here before the hay?
The man laughed.
-Are you playing the fool? What are you laughing at? - the gypsy began to shout. - You have to cry here. You, be so kind, my dear, come with me to our camp, you will be a guest. Well, my dear, I’ll treat you.
And the gypsy himself thinks to himself: If only he wouldn’t refuse. I'll give him three rubles, let him go back, damn him!
I barely persuaded the man.
From then on, the gypsy swore off stealing. And he kept his word.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru