The Tale of the Boy with the Boot

Once upon a time, there lived a husband and wife. They had been married for fifteen years, but they had no children. The husband and wife constantly repeated: "God, give us a son, we ask for nothing else, just one son, even if he is no taller than a boot."

And in the end, God granted them what they asked for. After fifteen years and nine months, the wife gave birth to a boy half an arshin tall, and he never grew an inch taller. Because of this, his parents called him Boot.

The time came for Boot to earn his bread. There was no boy smarter or more agile than him, but no master wanted to hire such a shorty. Finally, Boot was hired by a farmer, mean as the devil and stingy as a moneylender, to herd cows. Stale bread and thin soup, straw instead of a bed, frequent beatings, and not a penny of wages—that's what the poor shepherd got for his work. But he remained hopeful and thought to himself, "Patience! The sun will come out after the rain." One day, Boot was watching the cows, lying under a willow by the river Zher. On the other bank, he saw an old woman half his size, black as soot and ancient as the road.

"Shepherd," the old woman called, "come here and carry me across the river."

"Gladly, granny."

Boot undressed. Fortunately, it was autumn, after the harvest. The river had become so shallow that even the short shepherd found the water only waist-deep.

"Well, here you are on the other side, granny."

"Thank you, shepherd. A favor deserves a favor—here's a flute for you. Never part with it, day or night. As soon as you put it to your lips, everyone who hears it, people and animals alike, will dance against their will and won't stop until you stop playing."

"Thank you, granny." The old woman left, and Boot put the flute to his lips and began to play. At that very moment, the bulls, cows, and calves started dancing and didn't stop until the shepherd stopped playing.

Soon after, a magistrate passed by, a hot-tempered and mean man, as wicked as a hundred devils in hell. When he reached the thicket of blackthorn and brambles, the shepherd took off his hat.

"Good day, Mr. Magistrate."

The magistrate walked past without a word, not even touching his hat.

"Mr. Magistrate, I greeted you politely. You could have done the same."

The magistrate swung his cane.

Then Boot brought the flute to his lips. And at that very moment, the magistrate was forced to start dancing against his will. He danced and danced in the thicket of blackthorn and brambles, which tore his clothes and skin, and he didn't stop until the little shepherd stopped playing his flute.

Boot returned to the farm with the herd. That day, the farmer and his family were feasting in style: cabbage soup, goose legs, roast turkey, cheese, and good wine were on the table.

"Master, won't you let me taste some of these delicious things?"

"Look at this glutton! Get out of here! Moldy crusts are too good for you. Go away, or I'll give you a beating!"

Then Boot began to play his flute. Immediately, the farmer and his family were forced to dance against their will. They danced and danced among overturned benches and chairs, among broken plates, dishes, and bottles, which cut their feet and made them bleed. They danced until the little boy stopped playing.

After that, Boot returned to his parents, and the magistrate and the farmer filed a lawsuit against him.

And so, three days later, the shepherd was sentenced to hang.

As the judges in red robes, the priest, the executioner, and his assistants led Boot to the gallows, he glanced at the magistrate and the farmer standing in the crowd and nearly died laughing.

The executioner placed the noose around Boot's neck.

But Boot brought the flute to his lips. And immediately, the judges in red robes, the priest, the executioner, and his assistants—all were forced to dance against their will. They jumped higher than the gallows, risking breaking their necks every time they fell to the ground. They danced until the little shepherd decided to stop playing.

"Well, good people, do you still want to hang me?"

"No, Boot, go wherever you want. No one will touch you."

"Good people, that's not enough for me. I want the magistrate and my master to be hanged right now!"

"Boot, that's not in our power."

Then Boot took up the flute again, and the judges in red, the priest, the executioner, and his assistants were forced to dance once more. They danced, jumped higher than the gallows, fell to the ground, and nearly broke their arms and legs.

They danced until Boot stopped playing.

"Good people, I want the magistrate and my master to be hanged without any mercy. Well, is that still not in your power?"

"All right, Boot, we agree. Executioner, do your job."

The executioner and his assistants hanged the magistrate and the farmer.

"And now, good people, for the wrong you've done me, each of you owes me a thousand pistoles."

"Boot, we can't afford that."

Then Boot brought the flute to his lips. And the judges, the priest, the executioner, and his assistants—all started dancing. They danced, jumped higher than the gallows, risking breaking their necks every time they fell to the ground. They danced until the little boy stopped playing.

"Good people, for the wrong you've done me, each of you owes me a hundred pistoles. Can you afford that?"

"Yes, Boot. But we don't have the money on us."

"Then send someone to fetch it. Otherwise, watch out—the flute might start playing again!"

No sooner said than done. After that, Boot, loaded with gold, returned to his father and mother, and they lived happily ever after.

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The Tale of the Boy with the Boot

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