"How is your business?"

"I must say, my business is not progressing at all. The first thing I did was to spit into his kvas jug, so as to give him a belly-ache, and I went to his field and made the soil so hard that he should not be able to overcome it. I thought that he would never plough it up, but he, the fool, came with his plough and began to tear up the soil. His belly-ache made him groan, but he stuck to his ploughing. I broke one plough of his, but he went home, fixed another plough, wrapped new leg-rags on him, and started once more to plough. I crept under the earth, and tried to hold the ploughshare, but I could not do it,--he pressed so hard on the plough; the ploughshares are sharp, and he has cut up my hands. He has ploughed up nearly the whole of it,--only a small strip is left.

Come and help me, brothers, or else, if we do not overpower him, all our labours will be lost. If the fool is left and continues to farm, they will have no want, for he will feed them all."

s.e.m.e.n's devil promised to come on the morrow to help him, and thereupon the devils departed.

III.

Ivan ploughed up all the fallow field, and only one strip was left. His belly ached, and yet he had to plough. He straightened out the lines, turned over the plough, and went to the field. He had just made one furrow, and was coming back, when something pulled at the plough as though it had caught in a root. It was the devil that had twined his legs about the plough-head and was holding it fast.

"What in the world is that?" thought Ivan. "There were no roots here before, but now there are."

Ivan stuck his hand down in the furrow, and felt something soft. He grabbed it and pulled it out. It was as black as a root, but something was moving on it. He took a glance at it, and, behold, it was a live devil.

"I declare," he said, "it is a nasty thing!" And Ivan swung him and was about to strike him against the plough-handle; but the devil began to scream.

"Do not beat me," he said, "and I will do for you anything you wish."

"What will you do for me?"

"Say what you want!"

Ivan scratched himself.

"My belly aches,--can you cure me?"

"I can," he said.

"Very well, cure me!"

The devil bent down to the furrow, scratched awhile in it, pulled out a few roots,--three of them in a bunch,--and gave them to Ivan.

"Here," he said, "is a root, which, if you swallow, will make your ache go away at once."

Ivan took the roots, tore them up, and swallowed one. His belly-ache stopped at once.

Then the devil began to beg again:

"Let me go, now, and I will slip through the earth, and will not come up again."

"All right," he said, "G.o.d be with you!"

And the moment Ivan mentioned G.o.d's name, the devil bolted through the earth, as a stone plumps into the water, and only a hole was left. Ivan put the remaining two roots in his cap, and started to finish his work.

He ploughed up the strip, turned over the plough, and went home. He unhitched the horse, came to the house, and there found his eldest brother, s.e.m.e.n the Warrior, with his wife, eating supper. His estate had been taken from him, and he had with difficulty escaped from prison and come to his father's to live.

s.e.m.e.n saw Ivan, and, "I have come to live with you," he said. "Feed me and my wife until I find a new place!"

"All right," he said, "stay here!"

Ivan wanted to sit down on a bench, but the lady did not like the smell of Ivan. So she said to her husband:

"I cannot eat supper with a stinking peasant."

"All right," he said, "I have to go anyway to pasture the mare for the night."

Ivan took some bread and his caftan, and went out to herd his mare.

IV.

That night s.e.m.e.n's devil got through with his work and by agreement went to find Ivan's devil, to help to make an end of the fool. He came to the field and looked for him everywhere, but found only the hole.

"Something has evidently gone wrong with my comrade," he thought,--"I must take his place. The ploughing is done,--I shall have to catch him in the mowing time."

The devil went to the meadows and sent a flood on the mowing so that it was all covered with mud. Ivan returned in the morning from the night watch, whetted his scythe, and went out to mow the meadows. He came, and began to mow: he swung the scythe once, and a second time, and it grew dull and would not cut,--it was necessary to grind it. Ivan worked hard and in vain.

"No," he said, "I will go home, and will bring the grindstone with me, and a round loaf. If I have to stay here for a week, I will not give up until I mow it all."

When the devil heard it he thought:

"This fool is stiff-necked,--I cannot get at him. I must try something else."

Ivan came back, ground his scythe, and began to mow. The devil crept into the gra.s.s and began to catch the scythe by the snath-end and to stick the point into the ground. It went hard with Ivan, but he finished the mowing, and there was left only one scrubby place in the swamp. The devil crawled into the swamp and thought:

"If I get both my paws cut, I will not let him mow it."

Ivan went into the swamp; the gra.s.s was not dense, but he found it hard to move the scythe. Ivan grew angry and began to swing the scythe with all his might. The devil gave in; he had hardly time to get away,--he saw that matters were in bad shape, so he hid in a bush. Ivan swung the scythe with all his might and struck the bush, and cut off half of the devil's tail. Ivan finished the mowing, told the girl to rake it up, and himself went to cut the rye.

He went out with a round knife, but the bobtailed devil had been there before him and had so mixed up the rye that he could not cut it with the round knife. Ivan went back, took the sickle, and began to cut it; he cut all the rye.

"Now I must go to the oats," he said.

The bobtailed devil heard it, and thought:

"I could not cope with him on the rye, but I will get the better of him in the oats,--just let the morning come."

The devil ran in the morning to the oats-field, but the oats were all cut down. Ivan had cut them in the night, to keep them from dropping the seed.

The devil grew angry:

"The fool has cut me all up, and has worn me out. I have not seen such trouble even in war-time. The accursed one does not sleep,--I cannot keep up with him. I will go now to the ricks, and will rot them all."

And the devil went to the rye-rick, climbed between the sheaves, and began to rot them: he warmed them up, and himself grew warm and fell asleep.

Ivan hitched his mare, and went with the girl to haul away the ricks. He drove up to one and began to throw the sheaves into the cart. He had just put two sheaves in when he stuck his fork straight into the devil's back; he raised it, and, behold, on the p.r.o.ngs was a live devil, and a bobtailed one at that, and he was writhing and twisting, and trying to get off.

"I declare," he said, "it is a nasty thing! Are you here again?"