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out all over me. I'm not lily-livered; all my life I've been around the countryside, at markets, in the forests, in the autumn darkness. . . So I took my whip and began to lay it over my nag's rump. What sort of dumb goings-on are these? I ask. But the animal starts to frisk around, almost turning the wagon over. Well, I'm not the man to run away from trouble, so I climb out of the wagon-and so bright is the night, one could almost thread a needle there. So I take a look around, examine the wheels, the axle; everything is shipshape. Well, I figure, maybe something got caught. But no, everything is quiet and peaceful.

"Then suddenly a flash of lightning caught my eye. I saw that it came from Zatchuk's hut. Well, I figure, who has time to worry about the things old Zatchuk might take it in his mind to do? So I think it over for a minute, then I start to walk on, ahead of the horse. Then I figure I'll get hold of the reins. All of a sudden I see, lying right across the road, a sheep. Aha, I think, someone must have lost it on the way home from the market. I take a feel of the creature. All fat; fat and juicy as you'd like. The legs are tied, and it lies there panting, its pelt shining black and curly.

"Not a bad day's work, I figure, and I try to lift the creature. Not a chance. Can't budge it. Like a rock. Aha, I think to myself, I've lifted heavier weights than this fellow, picked up sacks of flour as though they were feathers. After all, I think to myself, for all your fat and your weight and your size, you're nothing but a sheep after all. So I get foot under it, and get my arms around it--and nothing. Not a budge. Well, I think to myself, what's the next thing to do dear Lord? I'm not such a weakling myself, and this, after all, is no more than a sheep..

"Then I think to myself; maybe it's one of these