the cage, to the boisterous encouragement of all the boys (and their fathers and uncles as well). When Herbert Wenzel finally grabbed the rat in his gloved hand, a cheer rose from the crowd, and as one they yelled the final tally:
“Sixty-three!”
The mayor joined in the applause. “Well done, Master Wenzel. And from now on we’ll assume sixty-three rats in a full cage. Doesn’t that sound fair, Master Smith?”
Marco the blacksmith wiped his sweaty brow with a sleeve. “Anything to save us from wrestling with a sack full of sharp-toothed vermin again.”
The rat catcher nodded with satisfaction. “Let’s say sixty. Makes the accounting easier. And you can keep a running tally of the numbers until I’m finished, if you like. Pay me in a lump sum when the entire job is done.”
The mayor removed a small account book from his waistcoat pocket, licked the tip of his pencil, and jotted a note.
There was much applause as Rudi and Herbert Wenzel settled the three sacks onto the cart and proceeded to the footbridge over the deep and swiftly flowing river.
“Where are my helpers?” called Herbert Wenzel. He looked around and caught sight of the group of boys. “I’ll be needing some good heavy stones to weigh down these here sacks.”
When they were properly weighted and secured, Herbert Wenzel disposed of each quivering sack with a splash. This task was witnessed and verified by the mayor, by Marco the blacksmith, and by themore curious citizens of Brixen, of whom there were quite a few.
The rat catchers kept at their job for four days more, until the entire village had been explored, inspected, and well cleared of rats. They filled and emptied the cage every day, and finally, Herbert Wenzel declared that the task was finished.
During a ragged ceremony in the village square, the mayor thanked Herbert Wenzel and Rudi for their services. He declared that they were owed enough pretty pennies to add up to a goodly number of pretty florins, and he hastened to point out that they had earned every last one. Even Marco the blacksmith remarked on the transformation in the village, and did not begrudge a single penny of his portion.
Rudi felt a tug at his shirt. He looked down to see Susanna Louisa gazing up at him with moony eyes.
“Thank you, Rudi,” she whispered. “Thank you for taking away those horrible mouses.” And she gave him a wilted bluebell on a broken stem, and ran off to hide behind her mother.
Herbert Wenzel shook Rudi’s hand. “Well done,lad. If you’re as able a farmer as you are a rat catcher, I daresay you can be right proud.”
His work now finished, Herbert Wenzel settled Annalesa and Beatrice onto his cart and started home to Klausen.
“So,” said Oma to Rudi as they watched the rat catcher disappear around a bend in the road. “What do you think, after all that?”
With much relief, and with a handful of coins jingling in his pocket, Rudi said, “I think that sometimes a rat is just a rat.”
THE RATS HAD been gone a week, and the village was truly transformed.
Rudi could hear it in the voices of his neighbors, which were full of good humor after weeks of irritable words. He could see it in the way they walked, as if they had become suddenly unburdened.
And Rudi felt it himself. Though it was the height of summer, Rudi felt the energy of springtime in the air. He felt a happy anticipation, as when he heard the river awakening as a trickle beneath the snow, promising to become a torrent. The world was again as it should be, and all was possibility.
Rudi knew there was only one reason for such a feeling of relief and release: The blight of rats had been that awful.
By now, any fear of enchantment or curse had faded from Rudi’s mind. He had seen for himself that the scourge was entirely earthly in nature, when he and Herbert Wenzel had dispatched it by entirely earthly means.
Rudi was in such a good mood that he allowed his friends to pull him away from his milking duties.
“Sixty-three!”
The mayor joined in the applause. “Well done, Master Wenzel. And from now on we’ll assume sixty-three rats in a full cage. Doesn’t that sound fair, Master Smith?”
Marco the blacksmith wiped his sweaty brow with a sleeve. “Anything to save us from wrestling with a sack full of sharp-toothed vermin again.”
The rat catcher nodded with satisfaction. “Let’s say sixty. Makes the accounting easier. And you can keep a running tally of the numbers until I’m finished, if you like. Pay me in a lump sum when the entire job is done.”
The mayor removed a small account book from his waistcoat pocket, licked the tip of his pencil, and jotted a note.
There was much applause as Rudi and Herbert Wenzel settled the three sacks onto the cart and proceeded to the footbridge over the deep and swiftly flowing river.
“Where are my helpers?” called Herbert Wenzel. He looked around and caught sight of the group of boys. “I’ll be needing some good heavy stones to weigh down these here sacks.”
When they were properly weighted and secured, Herbert Wenzel disposed of each quivering sack with a splash. This task was witnessed and verified by the mayor, by Marco the blacksmith, and by themore curious citizens of Brixen, of whom there were quite a few.
The rat catchers kept at their job for four days more, until the entire village had been explored, inspected, and well cleared of rats. They filled and emptied the cage every day, and finally, Herbert Wenzel declared that the task was finished.
During a ragged ceremony in the village square, the mayor thanked Herbert Wenzel and Rudi for their services. He declared that they were owed enough pretty pennies to add up to a goodly number of pretty florins, and he hastened to point out that they had earned every last one. Even Marco the blacksmith remarked on the transformation in the village, and did not begrudge a single penny of his portion.
Rudi felt a tug at his shirt. He looked down to see Susanna Louisa gazing up at him with moony eyes.
“Thank you, Rudi,” she whispered. “Thank you for taking away those horrible mouses.” And she gave him a wilted bluebell on a broken stem, and ran off to hide behind her mother.
Herbert Wenzel shook Rudi’s hand. “Well done,lad. If you’re as able a farmer as you are a rat catcher, I daresay you can be right proud.”
His work now finished, Herbert Wenzel settled Annalesa and Beatrice onto his cart and started home to Klausen.
“So,” said Oma to Rudi as they watched the rat catcher disappear around a bend in the road. “What do you think, after all that?”
With much relief, and with a handful of coins jingling in his pocket, Rudi said, “I think that sometimes a rat is just a rat.”
THE RATS HAD been gone a week, and the village was truly transformed.
Rudi could hear it in the voices of his neighbors, which were full of good humor after weeks of irritable words. He could see it in the way they walked, as if they had become suddenly unburdened.
And Rudi felt it himself. Though it was the height of summer, Rudi felt the energy of springtime in the air. He felt a happy anticipation, as when he heard the river awakening as a trickle beneath the snow, promising to become a torrent. The world was again as it should be, and all was possibility.
Rudi knew there was only one reason for such a feeling of relief and release: The blight of rats had been that awful.
By now, any fear of enchantment or curse had faded from Rudi’s mind. He had seen for himself that the scourge was entirely earthly in nature, when he and Herbert Wenzel had dispatched it by entirely earthly means.
Rudi was in such a good mood that he allowed his friends to pull him away from his milking duties.
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