The Foolish Weaver
Once a weaver, who
was in want of work, took service with a certain farmer as a shepherd.
The farmer, knowing
that the man was very slow-witted, gave him most careful instructions as to
everything that he was to do.
Finally he said: 'If
a wolf or any wild animal attempts to hurt the flock you should pick up a big
stone like this' (suiting the action to the word) 'and throw a few such at him,
and he will be afraid and go away.' The weaver said that he understood, and
started with the flocks to the hillsides where they grazed all day.
By chance in the
afternoon a leopard appeared, and the weaver instantly ran home as fast as he
could to get the stones which the farmer had shown him, to throw at the
creature. When he came back all the flock were scattered or killed, and when
the farmer heard the tale he beat him soundly. 'Were there no stones on the
hillside that you should run back to get them, you senseless one?' he cried;
'you are not fit to herd sheep. To-day you shall stay at home and mind my old
mother who is sick, perhaps you will be able to drive flies off her face, if
you can't drive beasts away from sheep!'
So, the next day,
the weaver was left at home to take care of the farmer's old sick mother. Now
as she lay outside on a bed, it turned out that the flies became very
troublesome, and the weaver looked round for something to drive them away with;
and as he had been told to pick up the nearest stone to drive the beasts away
from the flock, he thought he would this time show how cleverly he could obey
orders. Accordingly he seized the nearest stone, which was a big, heavy one,
and dashed it at the flies; but, unhappily, he slew the poor old woman also;
and then, being afraid of the wrath of the farmer, he fled and was not seen
again in that neighbourhood.
All that day and all
the next night he walked, and at length he came to a village where a great many
weavers lived together.
'You are welcome,'
said they. 'Eat and sleep, for to-morrow six of us start in search of fresh
wool to weave, and we pray you to give us your company.'
'Willingly,'
answered the weaver. So the next morning the seven weavers set out to go to the
village where they could buy what they wanted. On the way they had to cross a
ravine which lately had been full of water, but now was quite dry. The weavers,
however, were accustomed to swim over this ravine; therefore, regardless of the
fact that this time it was dry, they stripped, and, tying their clothes on
their heads, they proceeded to swim across the dry sand and rocks that formed
the bed of the ravine. Thus they got to the other side without further damage
than bruised knees and elbows, and as soon as they were over, one of them began
to count the party to make sure that all were safe there. He counted all except
himself, and then cried out that somebody was missing! This set each of them
counting; but each made the same mistake of counting all except himself, so
that they became certain that one of their party was missing! They ran up and
down the bank of the ravine wringing their hands in great distress and looking
for signs of their lost comrade. There a farmer found them and asked what was
the matter. 'Alas!' said one, 'seven of us started from the other bank and one
must have been drowned on the crossing, as we can only find six remaining!' The
farmer eyed them a minute, and then, picking up his stick, he dealt each a
sounding blow, counting, as he did so, 'One! two! three!' and so on up to the
seven. When the weavers found that there were seven of them they were overcome
with gratitude to one whom they took for a magician as he could thus make seven
out of an obvious six.
[From the Pushto.]
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