Page - 68 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

My coals were now hardly flickering and looked wretched beside that fire. I put the pot down sadly in a corner of the hearth and slunk away. I had been gone much too long; then, by good fortune, Cousin Jok had come home from the meadow, and he had a burning-glass, which he held over a piece of tinder in the sun until it caught. And so the sun which I had slandered had stolen a march upon me and provided fire for the porridge before I did. I was heartily ashamed of myself and, to this day, am unable to look the benefactor straight in the face. I slunk into the paddock. There I saw Cousin Jok squatting in his long grey, red-embroidered fur, with his white head. And, when I drew nigh, I saw why he was squatting here like that. The snow-white kid lay in front of him, with its head and its feet outstretched and Cousin Jok was stripping off its hide. At that I burst into loud weeping. Cousin Jok stood up, took me by the hand, and said: “There it lies and looks at you!” And the kid really was staring into my face with its glassy eyes. And yet it was dead. “Peterle!” whispered my cousin, gravely. “Mother sent the Knierutscher woman a loaf of bread.” “Yes,” I sobbed, “and it ran away from me, right down over the edge.” “Since you own up, laddie,” said Cousin Jok, “I will arrange things so that nothing happens to you. I have told mother that a stone or something came rolling down and killed the kid. (Somehow, I thought in my own mind that Peterle was at the back of it!) That loaf of bread came straight out of the air, down over the high edge, passed me and hit the kid right on the head. The poor little thing staggered and fell and was dead as a mouse at once. However, don’t be afraid, we’ll keep to the stone idea. I’ll make things all right with the Knierutscher woman too; and now be quiet, laddie, and don’t pull such dismal faces. To-night we’ll eat the poor beastie, and mother will cook us a horseradish-soup to go with it.” In such wise died the little white kid. My brother and sisters told me it had been killed by a naughty, cruel stone. To please me, mother added my coals to the fire on the hearth, and before this fire the kid was roasted. It was to have been a gift for Cousin Jok; and now he was to have roast kid instead. But he invited all of us to join him and gave us the best bits. I did not relish mine at all. The next morning, Jakoberle armed himself with a cudgel, followed Cousin