One man loved hunting more than anything in the world. From dawn to dusk he disappeared in the forest, in the most remote corners, weaving bird traps from poles, digging wolf pits, setting snares and snares.
And then one day, when he had climbed to the very top of a tree and was lying in wait for game, a herd of wild boars jumped out of the thicket. The hunter took aim and with a well-aimed shot killed three at once. But at that moment, when he, delighted with his luck, began to climb down from the tree, a loud whistle was heard from afar. The hunter shuddered and froze on his flooring of branches, fearfully peering into the dark depths of the forest... Yes, there could be no doubt: Kaipora, the main goblin of the surrounding forests, was approaching - apparently, he wanted to look with his master's eye at his boar herd...
A whistle was heard closer and closer, and not only a whistle, but also the clatter of hooves and the crackling of dead wood.
And finally the thicket parted, and the hunter saw Kaipora. He was small, wiry, black as hell, hairy as a monkey, and rode a skinny black boar. In his right hand he held a long iron spear, and his left hand was not visible at all. however, the entire left side was only half visible, as if its other half had melted into the sleepy, hot, damp air of the forest. Digging his sharp heels into the sides of a lean boar, he galloped around his estate, whooping and whistling, piercing the air with his fork, making such a noise that you could take out the saints, and shouting in a nasal voice a hunting cry:
- Hey-hey! Hey-hey! Hey-hey!
Having stumbled upon dead boars stretched out on the ground, he began to forcefully poke them with his horn, saying:
- Get up, get up, you slackers! It's not time to sleep! And the dead boars jumped up as if nothing had happened and ran away grumbling. Only the last, largest boar did not want to get up... Kaipora flew into a rage: he poked the rebellious one with such force, stabbed with such frenzy that he even broke one of the horns of his spear. Just then the big boar stood up, as if reluctantly, and, shaking himself, galloped off after the others. Kaipora shouted after him:
- What tenderness! Well, wait, I'll teach you a lesson! Now, because of you, I will have to go to the blacksmith tomorrow to repair the spear!
And, setting off his lean boar at a gallop, Kaipora rushed off, filling the thicket with a nasal cry:
- Hey-hey! Hey-hey! Hey-hey!
The hunter sat in the tree for a long time. When neither shouting nor stomping could be heard and there was complete silence around, he climbed down from the tree and, not feeling his feet under him, ran home.
The next morning, early, he went to visit the blacksmith. Well, we talked about this and that, and meanwhile the sun had already risen high in the sky. It was then that a short, stocky Indian in a leather hat pulled down over his eyes knocked on the door of the forge. He entered and said to the blacksmith:
- Good afternoon, master. Can't you fix this spear? Just be quick, otherwise I’m in too much of a hurry...
“Eh, good man,” the blacksmith replies, “there’s no way you can live longer, because there’s no one to fan the heat in the forge.” My bellows in the morning are as if they were lifeless.
And our hunter, as soon as he looked at the Indian, immediately recognized him as yesterday’s acquaintance and thought that Kaipora then, rightly, changed his appearance in order to go to the blacksmith to repair the spear, which he broke yesterday on the sides of a large boar. “Well, wait a minute...” thought the hunter and jumped up from his seat with the words:
- I will blow the forge, master.
- Do you know anything? - asked the blacksmith.
- I’ll try. “Perhaps, no special erudition is required here,” said the hunter.
The blacksmith lit the forge and ordered the hunter to take up the bellows. The hunter leaned on the bellows and began to fan it, but only quietly like this: p-one - two-a; r-one - two-a - three-and-and, - humming a song to the beat:
Who wanders through the forest
Look at the miracle...
The Indian looked and looked, and then came up, pushed the hunter away, and said:
- Let me go, you don’t know how! Give it to me!
And as soon as he pressed the bellows, he went quickly, quickly: once, two, three; one - two - three... And he himself hums:
Who wanders through the forest
Look at the miracle...
... See enough of a miracle,
But only about this
Not a word yet!..
Then our hunter began to back away towards the door, slipped out quietly into the street, and God bless his legs! Since then he has never killed a boar, and if he sees anything in the forest, he keeps his mouth shut.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru