Page:The Folk-Lore Journal Volume 2 1884.djvu/204

196 dogs away," said the gentleman, "or it will kill them." "Never mind," said John; "if you like we will set the dogs on him and have some sport."

After some hesitation, the gentleman agreed, and Nart grahbed the bull and held him down by the nose, while Fiss and Lice tore at the different parts of his body. After a while the gentleman said, "Call off your dogs." John called them off, and they came and stood in a circle round John.

John went on with his work after this, and did all that the bitch had told him. Now, after a long time, it happened that John was going to get married to the gentleman's daughter. Before the marriage, Fiss again came up to warn him. She said, "Whatever you do, don't drink any of the wine they'll give you, and don't get drunk. Also notice the little lap-dog the lady will have in her arms. It is the bull changed into the shape of a dog. She will come up to you and show you the dog to admire. Admire it, but keep your eyes on the dog, which will stare you in the face. Presently you will see the princess loosen her arm and the dog preparing to fly at your threat; then with a sweep of your arm knock him under the table to us, and being a lap-dog he will only have the strength of a lap-dog, and we will soon manage him."

The next day John was married to the lady, and in the evening, at the marriage-feast, he didn't taste a drop of wine or other strong drink. Soon the princess came up with a handsome little dog in her arms. "Isn't he a pretty little dog?" said the princess. "Oh! very beautiful, very handsome dog," said John, as he saw the dog crouching for a spring at his throat. Then he saw the princess's arms loosen a bit, and with a backhand smack of his arm he sent the dog sprawling under the table. A few yells, and all was over. But Fiss, who knew everything, began to grind and destroy every little bit of the lap-dog, for she knew that so long as there was any particle, however small, left of him, he would still be alive. For all poor Fiss's trouble, however, there was a tiny splinter of bone left, and the princess put that in John's bed. In the night, when John went to bed, the splinter shot up through his body and poor John was dead—dead as a door-nail. The poor dogs could not help him now, because, thinking all danger