panurge bargains with dindeno for a ram, and throws his ram overboard.

five days after leaving the land of pictures, the flag-ship being in the lead, pantagruel's keen eyes caught sight, away off to the windward, of a large merchant-ship making her way slowly towards them. there was great joy among all the men on all the ships. those on the fleet were glad, because they hoped, through the sail in sight, to hear news of the sea; and those on the merchant-ship because her passengers expected to get news from the main-land. when the flag-ship met with the stranger, and when the two were side by side, pantagruel, curious to see a merchantman, went with his friends on board the latter.

the skipper of the merchantman, cap in hand, told pantagruel that he had come from lanternland. as soon as this was known everybody tried to put in a question about the country,—how it had got its name, and what were the habits of the lantern people. it was learned that, towards the end of each july, the lanternists held their great fair, which, if the giant wished to see for himself how much could be made of lanterns, whether single or strung in rows, by twos; by threes; by fours, and so on; or piled in columns; or ranged in arches; or spanning streets; or hung on trees; or sparkling on country roads; or swinging along the whole coast, making it as bright as in sunshine,—why, all he would have to do was to go there, if not that year, then the next.

while all this pleasant little talk was going on between the giant and the skipper, panurge had already got into a wrangle with a french sheep-seller, named dindeno, who happened to have a large cargo of sheep on board. this sheep-seller was a very bad-tongued fellow; and, seeing panurge passing by, with his glasses tied to his cap, and looking at his stock, he called out sneeringly to his shepherds,—

"just look at that long-nosed dandy, with his glasses tied to his cap!"

panurge, whose ears were as keen as his nose was sharp, retorted,—

"what dost thou say, thou sheep-barber?

"sheep-barber! ha! i am no sheep-barber, i let thee know, thou long-nosed dandy."

"thou art no sheep-barber, eh! prithee, tell me, then, rude fellow, what are so many sheared sheep doing here? who sheared them, if thou didst not?"

"thou art a rogue; and i will kill thee as i would a ram!" shrieked the sheep-seller, while trying to draw his sword; but the blade stuck close to the scabbard, as often happens on sea, from the rust caused by salt-water. panurge, who was not armed, and who, from his cradle, had been a coward, ran for safety towards pantagruel, who was not looking at what was going on. but friar john, always on the watch, with his strong arm caught hold of dindeno. then pantagruel, turning round and seeing a man struggling with friar john, knew for the first time that there was a quarrel. at this moment the skipper stepped up, and, with many bows and prayers that there should be no bad name given to his ship, begged his giantship to order peace. this was done, and panurge and dindeno shook hands, apparently the best of friends.

a short time after, panurge winked at epistemon and friar john, as much as to say, "i want to have a word with you." as soon as they came near, panurge whispered, "stand about here for a while, and you shall see rare sport."

having no idea of what was coming, friar john and epistemon stepped to one side, and waited.

then panurge, turning to dindeno, begged him to be good enough to sell him one of his sheep.

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panurge wants a sheep.

"hello! my good friend and neighbor," cried the sheep-seller, "dost thou want to play tricks on poor people? how long since thou hast been a buyer of sheep?"

"whatever i may have been," said panurge, gently, "be so kind as to sell me one of thy sheep there. now, how much wilt thou ask for one?"

"see here, friend and neighbor, these are noble creatures. these are long-wooled sheep. it was from the fathers of these very sheep that jason took his famous golden fleece."

"i do not doubt thy word," said panurge; "but fix thy price for one of those precious sheep. here is thy money ready for thee."

"my friend and neighbor, now listen to me!"

"i am listening."

"i shall make a bargain with thee! we have a pair of scales on board. get thee on one scale. i shall put my prize ram on the other. i am willing to bet thee a peck of busch oysters that, in weight, value, and general worth, my ram shall outweigh thee!"

"that may be all so; but i beg thee, good dindeno, without further word, to be so kind as to sell me one of thy sheep; i care not which one."

with that, he pulled out his purse, and showed it bursting with new gold-pieces, with the face of good king gargantua stamped on each piece.

dindeno's eyes flashed at the glitter of so much gold; but he had made up his mind to insult panurge until he made him angry.

"my friend and neighbor," he said, "my sheep are meat only for kings and princes. they are too nice and dainty for such as thou."

"be patient now, and please grant my request. only set thy price for one, and i will pay thee like a king."

"thou art a fine fellow, truly," sneered dindeno; "but tell me first, hast thou ever seen such shoulders, such legs, such knuckles, such backs and breasts as thou canst see here? such strong ribs, out of which the small people in pigmy-land make cross-bows to shoot with cherry-stones those long-legged cranes in their country? think of all this for a second!"

"peace, good man, i pray thee!" panurge was about to say more, when he was stopped all of a sudden by the skipper, who had just drawn near at the sound of loud voices, and had heard dindeno's sharp tones. "enough! enough! too much talk here!" he cried. "dindeno, if thou wantest to sell, sell. if thou wilt not, have done with it."

"i am willing to sell, captain, for thy sake; but for thy sake alone," said the sheep-seller. "but he must pay me three french livres for his pick and choice."

"that is a big price," said panurge, gently. "in my own country, i can buy five, nay, six fine rams for that much money."

"but not such sheep as mine!" yelled dindeno, who was getting very angry that he had not vexed panurge.

"really, sweet sir, thou art getting a little warm. come, now, the bargain is ended. here is thy price. give me my ram."

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panurge buys a ram.

dindeno, in clutching angrily at the money, rudely pulled it out of the hands of the patient panurge. holding himself as straight as he could, with an innocent smile upon his face, panurge—having at last got what he wanted—looked around to make his choice. he soon picked out the finest ram in all the flock. the moment he caught hold of his ram, and began to haul it along, the poor beast set up a pitiful bleating. as soon as the rest of the sheep heard their leader bleating, they, too, set to crying and bleating, while staring at him with all their eyes wide open. meanwhile, dindeno, full of rage, was whispering to his shepherds,—

"that long-nosed fellow knows how to choose! that ram he has taken was the very one i had put aside for my best friend, the lord of cancale!"

as quick as lightning—before anybody knew what he was about; even before dindeno in fact, had turned away from whispering to his shepherds—panurge had caught up his bargain, bleating louder than ever, and thrown it overboard into the sea. at this, all the other sheep on the ship, crying and bleating just in the same sad key as their leader, began to scamper to the side and leap into the sea one after another. it was, with all of them, "who shall be first after our leader?" it being the nature of sheep, which are the silliest creatures in the world, always to follow their leader.

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panurge throws his ram overboard.

when dindeno turned round and saw his precious sheep frisking and drowning themselves before his eyes, he was at his wits' end. he tore his hair, and called out to his shepherds, "help me save my sheep! help me!" then he ran forward, and tried to keep, by might and main, the sheep from jumping into the sea; but it was all in vain. one after the other frisked gaily forward, bleating sadly all the while, to the spot where they had seen panurge throw their leader overboard. at last dindeno, in his despair, caught hold of a big ram by the fleece, hoping to be able to keep him back, and, in that way, to save the rest. but the ram was stronger than dindeno, and bore him away with him into the sea, where both were drowned.

this was, of course, bad enough; but there was something worse to come. all of dindeno's shepherds rushed forward to save the sheep, some catching them by the horns, some by the fleece, others by the legs, others still by their stumpy tails. it mattered little which way the poor innocent shepherds caught hold of the sheep, the sheep were too much for them, and they were all carried overboard into the sea, and drowned along with their master.

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the sheep and shepherds drown.

all this time panurge was standing near the galley of the ship, holding an oar in his hand. this was not, you may well believe, to keep the poor shepherds from drowning. no! no! panurge was not so soft-hearted as that! he used his oar only to keep the sheep from swimming up to the ship, crying out all the time,—"drown, foolish sheep, drown! it is sweeter to drown than to live and be butchered, you foolish sheep!"

wicked panurge! he never once thought of dindeno and the innocent shepherds!