Читать книгу River of fairy tales. Unprofessional translation from Russian онлайн

19 страница из 61

The Farmer went away. He gathered some manure and bird droppings and threw it evenly in the field. It was quite difficult, but he did fertilize the entire field by himself.

The Merchant spied on him from behind his fence and thought: «My fence is too small. The Farmer could easily get over it. I will gather more pricks and burrs in the forest tomorrow and will throw them around my fence. Thus, he will never steal my crops.»

The Merchant went to the forest, gathered big burrs, and laid his fence with the sharpest pricks. The pricks stuck out like true daggers – nobody could approach the fence.

Some more time passed. Now the season of weeding the field away came. The Farmer went to the Merchant’s hut and shouted from outside the fence:

«Maybe you could help me to weed away my field? I’ve got too much of them!»

«No way!» the Merchant got really mad behind his thorny fence. «My gold fears no weeds. And you have to deal with yours yourself.»

Again, the Farmer turned around and went away. The Merchant was nervous when watching him go. «I think I have to dig a ditch around my fence, or the farmer would really come and steal my gold.»