Pat Diver was not easily frightened. He had spent many lonely nights on the road traveling from one town to the next. But now a cold wind was whipping through the trees.
Pat trudged on,longing for warn fire and a snug roof. He was a tinker who could repair a kettle or a saucepan in the wink of an eye. But no one wanted anything fixed in exchange for a night's lodging. "Go away," they said even when Pat offered them a few coins.
He pulled his coat tightly across his chest and kept walking up to a dark mountain road. Finally he cam upon a cabin. When he looked through the window, he could see and old couple sitting beside a flickering fire. Surely they would welcome him.
The moment they opened the door, Pat asked if he could spend the night. He said he would pay them or mend their pots and pans. He would do anything for them, if only they would invite him inside.
The old man looked at the old woman and she nodded "you can stay," he said, "if you tell us a story."
The tinker rubbed his cold hands together. "I wish I could," he said. "But I have no story to tell."
"Not even one?" Asked the old woman
The tinker shook his head.
"Then be off!" The old man cried. "No one gets in here if he can't tell us a story." He slammed the door shut so quickly that the poor tinker stumbled backward and almost fell.
Pat didn't want to take another step. He was too tired, to cold, and angry besides. Never before had he ever encountered suck unfriendly people.
He sneaked into the rickety old barn behind the cabin. There was a pile of straw in one corner. "Any bed will do," he muttered. He borrowed deeply into the straw, pulling it over himself until he was completely hidden from view. Within moments, he was sound asleep.
Later that night, hatch voices awakened him. He didn't dare make a sound, but he peeked through a little hole between some blades of straw. And there in the middle of the barn he saw two huge men starting a fire on the dirt floor. Their faces were almost hidden by their long, greasy hair. When the flames Rose, Pat could see them pull something out from the shadows
It was a corpse!
Pat could barely keep his teeth from chattering. He watched in horror as they tied a rope around its feet and hung it from a beam over the fire. Then one man turned it around and around, roasting it.
"I'm tired," the man said, "you take your turn."
"Not me," said the other."let Pat diver turn it."
Pat gasped. how did they know he was there?
"Come one out," they shouted, kicking some straw aside
What else could Pat do? He crawled out on hands and knees. One man grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and set him on his feet.
"Start turning the corpse," said the other, "and mind you don't let it burn!"
Pat shuddered. His mouth went dry and sour. He thought he might faint, but the huge man bent down and glared at him just inches from his face. he had no choice. He gritted his teeth and turned that corpse as skillfully as a seasoned chef.
The huge men laughed at his terror. "Keep turning," one said
"We'll be back," said the other, and they disappeared into the night.
Pat didn't dare to stop turning that corpse, even when the flames rose higher around it. Befor long, the flames reached the rope-quickly burning it. Pat watched in horror as the rope broke and the corpse fell into the fire. Sparks and ashes flew out the door. And pat? He flew out the door.
He ran faster than he had ever ran in his entire life.
He ran and ran and ran. Sweat poured down his face even though he was racing into a cold wind his legs ached, but he wanted to put as much as distance as he could between himself and those horrible men with the burning corpse.
When he couldn't run another step, he slid down in to a soggy ditch and dove behind a clump of overgrown weeds. He hid there, panting. But he had barely caught his breath when he heard have footsteps coming down the rood worse yet, he heard harsh voices.
He peeked out and saw the same awful men he had seen in the barn.
"I'm tired of carrying this corpse," one man said "your take a turn."
"Not me," said the other. "Let pat diver carry it,"and he jumped into the ditch and dragged pat out of the weeds......
Pat was already clammy and shivering, and when that smoky corpse was draped around his shoulder, his hair stood on end. He Almost retched.
" it's your fault, "one man said. " you're the one who burned it. Now we have to bury it."
"Move," said the other, and down that road they went mile after mile. Pat thought his back was going to break. He desperately wanted to stop. He almost didn't care what those huge men did to him, but somehow he kept staggering along. A sickle moon barely lit the way. Finally they reached an abandoned graveyard beside a tumbledown church.
Weeds and vines and brambles covered the graves and broken walls. Owls hooted to one another, and bats circled low on silent wings.
The huge men shoved brambles aside one grabbed a shovel and began digging a grave.
Pat let his awful burden sip quietly to the ground. He thought he might creep away while the men weren't looking. When he spotted a hawthorn tree close by, he climbed high into its branches and hid.
"I'm tired of digging," one man said. "You take a turn."
"not me," said the other. "Let Pat diver do it," and he shook that big tree so hard that Pat came tumbling down at his feet.
Poor Pat. He took up that shovel and tossed dirt out of the grave as if his life depended on it, for it probably did. What would those huge men do if he refused? Pat dug and dug until his hands were blistered. He was exhausted and lost all sense of time.
But the two huge men kept watching for the sunrise. just befor the first rooster crowed, they said they must go. Pat would have to finish the job himself.
"It's you lucky night, Pat diver," one man said.
"If we could stay a little longer," said the other "we would bury you with the corpse." And the two huge men ruched out of the graveyard.
My lucky night? Pat couldn't imagine one more ghastly.
A few tears began to run down him cheeks, but he punched the corpse into the grave and shoveled all the loos dirt back in the hole. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing. his entire body ached. He wiped off the tears with gritty fingers, staggered out of the graveyard, and trudged down the road.
For weeks afterwards he shivered and shook. He couldn't mend spot or a pan if he tried. When his hands finally stop shaking,he resumed the tinker's trade but wherever he roamed, he was careful to find lodging well befor nightfall.
Late one afternoon, Pat found himself on a lonely mountain road. Storm clouds raced in, darkening the sky, and rain came pelting down. Pat hurried to the nearest cabin and knocked. An old man came to the door. Pat thought he looked vaguely familiar but couldn't remember where he had seen him.
"May I spend the night?" Pat asked
"Come right in," said the old man. "Sit by the fire."
"His wife called out to the barn. " come here boys."
Pat was horrified to see two huge man lumber across the yard and into the cabin. Their faces were almost hidden by their long, greasy hair
"Listen," the woman Toul her sons. "Pat diver has a story to tell."
