They cried, out to know the remedy, and the
old bachelor drew nearer to the pretty girl.
"The only remedy for the pestilence is for every woman _to knock down
the man who is nearest her_."
The women began to knock down, and the first to fall was the too
familiar old bachelor. So the Mischief Maker waited no longer than to
see the whole town in one general and bitter fight, tooth and nail,
tomahawk and scalper, and then ran at the top of his speed far away and
fleet, to find another village. Then the people, finding they had been
tricked, said, as people generally do on such occasions, "If we had
that fellow here, wouldn't we pay him up for this?"
The Mischief Maker was greatly pleased at his success. It was nearly
dark when he stopped, and said, "I will not enter the next village
to-night; I will camp here in the woods." So he had piled up logs for a
fire, and was just about to strike a light, when he saw a stranger
approaching. "Camp with me here over night," said the Mischief Maker,
"and we will go to the village in the morning."
So they ate and smoked their pipes, and told stories till it was very
late. But the stranger did not seem to tire; nay, he even proposed to
tell stories all night long. The Mischief Maker looked at him aslant.
"My friend," he said, "can you tell me of what wood my back-log is?"
"Hickory?" inquired the stranger.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226