Seite - 62 - in The Forest Farm - Tales of the Austrian Tyrol

“There was once a great, great wood. And everything in the wood was dark. No little birds sang: only the screech-owl’s cry was heard. But, even though the other birds had sung, all the boughs and all the leaves on the trees wept thousands and thousands of tears. In the middle of this wood is a heath, silent as the graveyard; and he who goes over it and does not turn back is never seen again. Once upon a time, two knees went over this heath; and inside those knees was blood.” “Jesus Mar…!” gasped the elder of my little sisters; and all three crept under their coverlets. “Yes, two knees with blood inside them,” I continued, “and they passed over the heath towards the dark wood, like a lost soul. But, all at once, the two bloody knees….” “I say, I’ll give you my blue trouser-belt if you stop!” whimpered my brother in his fear and hid still deeper in the coverlet. “The two bloody knees stopped,” I continued, “and on the ground lay a stone as white as a winding-sheet. Then two flickering lights appeared between the trees; and thereupon four more knees, all with blood—hovered to the same place….” “I’ll give you my new pair of shoes if you stop!” Jakoberle panted in his trough and, for sheer terror, drew Zeitzerl to him by her beard. “And so they all six together passed through the dark wood and out upon the heath and over the oat-field to our house … and here into the stable….” Now they all three cried out and whimpered; and there was no end to their terror, and my little sister timidly promised me her share of to-morrow’s Ascension cake, which was expected this year too, if I would only stop. But I went on: “Well, ah, yes, I forgot to begin by saying that the first two knees—with blood—belonged to our Jakoberle and the last four to his Zeitzerl … as they went about in the wood to-day.” Suddenly, they all burst out laughing. “Why, everybody has two knees with blood in them!” cried little sister; and the goats bleated their share of the jubilation. I had played my part right out. For three hundred and sixty-four nights long, I had shone as a wise and veracious story-teller; the three-hundred-and- sixty-fifth had unmasked me as a deceitful humbug. The promise of the second Ascension cake was withdrawn; little sister declared that her offer had been made in self-defence.