dexterity and preciseness of his work, he became very famous for making the finest, most delicate of shoes. In addition, he grew quite rich.
More time passed, so much time that the shoemaker began to think his bargain with Old Scratch had been fulfilled.
But one fine fall dayâwhen the air was crisp and coolâwhile the blind shoemaker was working on a pair of shoes for a duchess, he heard a sound he could not identify. The sound was heavy and rough. Every time it came, the workshop floor shook as if it were atop an earthquake.
Because the shoemaker was blind, he could not see who (or what) was causing such a commotion. "Who's there?" he called.
No reply.
The shoemaker went back to his work thinking that perhaps he had dozed off and had only imagined the sounds. The next moment more crashing and thrashing interrupted him. Now the shoemaker knew something (or someone)
was
there. "Tell me what you are!" he demanded.
Still, no answer.
The shoemaker became angry. He picked up one of his razor-sharp leather cutters, and was about to fling it in the direction from which the sound came, when a voice boomed, "Would you kill me?"
"Who are you?" demanded the shoemaker.
"I am," answered a great voice, "a creature of change. I thought you might know me."
The shoemaker instantly recognized the voice of Old Scratch. "Forgive me," he said. "I didn't realize it was you."
"Forgive you?" said Old Scratch. "You might have killed me with that sharp cutter of yours. Think of all my friends who would have missed me."
"I'm truly sorry," said the shoemaker, wondering what part of the bargain he would have to fulfill now.
The great voice went on. "It is even worse for me when you consider the great distance I have to go, and yet I have no shoes upon my feet."
"What happened to the ones I made you?"
"Souls and soles both will wear."
"Would you like me to make you new shoes?" asked the shoemaker, knowing very well what the answer would be.
Sure enough the voice replied, "I have visited you small. Now I visit you tall. Yes, I'd like shoes upon my feet. Can you do it? Happily, today my feet number only four."
"I'm sure I can make them," said the shoemaker. That said, he climbed off his workbench and groped his way to the sound of the voice, feeling for the feet. It was just as Old Scratch had said. He had four feetâbut each foot was as big as a house!
When the shoemaker measured the huge feetâit took three days to do soâOld Scratch lumbered off, promising to return when the shoes were done,
if
they were done. The shoemaker purchased all the leather he could find, hundreds and hundreds of yards, and set to work.
As for the black cat, she merely watched.
So big, so heavy were the shoes that the shoemaker made, each took a year to construct. Still, at the end of those four yearsâworking every day, some nights, plus holidays, election days, and one extra leap-year dayâthe shoemaker made the four shoes. Hardly had they been made when Old Scratch returned. The shoemaker fitted the shoes, and they fit wonderfully well.
Old Scratch thanked the shoemaker for his work. "Well done," he said. "I can almost forgive you for thinking of throwing that cutter at me." Then off he clumped, the ground trembling with every step he took.
Unfortunately, all the shoemaker's hard work making the huge shoes had crippled his hands. They had become so tired, so weak, during the four years, he could hardly cut a piece of paper, let alone leather. He could not even pick up a needle.
Unable to work for himself anymore, the shoemaker had to employ others. No great hardship there. His fame as a skilled shoemaker had spread so widely, he attracted many an apprentice, all of whom he instructed. He did it very well, too. He became richer than he had ever been before. The whole world seemed to desire shoes made under his direction.
So, though the shoemaker was blind and could no longer use his hands, he thought his bargain was not a
More time passed, so much time that the shoemaker began to think his bargain with Old Scratch had been fulfilled.
But one fine fall dayâwhen the air was crisp and coolâwhile the blind shoemaker was working on a pair of shoes for a duchess, he heard a sound he could not identify. The sound was heavy and rough. Every time it came, the workshop floor shook as if it were atop an earthquake.
Because the shoemaker was blind, he could not see who (or what) was causing such a commotion. "Who's there?" he called.
No reply.
The shoemaker went back to his work thinking that perhaps he had dozed off and had only imagined the sounds. The next moment more crashing and thrashing interrupted him. Now the shoemaker knew something (or someone)
was
there. "Tell me what you are!" he demanded.
Still, no answer.
The shoemaker became angry. He picked up one of his razor-sharp leather cutters, and was about to fling it in the direction from which the sound came, when a voice boomed, "Would you kill me?"
"Who are you?" demanded the shoemaker.
"I am," answered a great voice, "a creature of change. I thought you might know me."
The shoemaker instantly recognized the voice of Old Scratch. "Forgive me," he said. "I didn't realize it was you."
"Forgive you?" said Old Scratch. "You might have killed me with that sharp cutter of yours. Think of all my friends who would have missed me."
"I'm truly sorry," said the shoemaker, wondering what part of the bargain he would have to fulfill now.
The great voice went on. "It is even worse for me when you consider the great distance I have to go, and yet I have no shoes upon my feet."
"What happened to the ones I made you?"
"Souls and soles both will wear."
"Would you like me to make you new shoes?" asked the shoemaker, knowing very well what the answer would be.
Sure enough the voice replied, "I have visited you small. Now I visit you tall. Yes, I'd like shoes upon my feet. Can you do it? Happily, today my feet number only four."
"I'm sure I can make them," said the shoemaker. That said, he climbed off his workbench and groped his way to the sound of the voice, feeling for the feet. It was just as Old Scratch had said. He had four feetâbut each foot was as big as a house!
When the shoemaker measured the huge feetâit took three days to do soâOld Scratch lumbered off, promising to return when the shoes were done,
if
they were done. The shoemaker purchased all the leather he could find, hundreds and hundreds of yards, and set to work.
As for the black cat, she merely watched.
So big, so heavy were the shoes that the shoemaker made, each took a year to construct. Still, at the end of those four yearsâworking every day, some nights, plus holidays, election days, and one extra leap-year dayâthe shoemaker made the four shoes. Hardly had they been made when Old Scratch returned. The shoemaker fitted the shoes, and they fit wonderfully well.
Old Scratch thanked the shoemaker for his work. "Well done," he said. "I can almost forgive you for thinking of throwing that cutter at me." Then off he clumped, the ground trembling with every step he took.
Unfortunately, all the shoemaker's hard work making the huge shoes had crippled his hands. They had become so tired, so weak, during the four years, he could hardly cut a piece of paper, let alone leather. He could not even pick up a needle.
Unable to work for himself anymore, the shoemaker had to employ others. No great hardship there. His fame as a skilled shoemaker had spread so widely, he attracted many an apprentice, all of whom he instructed. He did it very well, too. He became richer than he had ever been before. The whole world seemed to desire shoes made under his direction.
So, though the shoemaker was blind and could no longer use his hands, he thought his bargain was not a
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