“Very well,” said Babo, and the bargain was struck. So the next morning bright and early off they started upon their journey, cheek by jowl, the wise man and the simpleton, to make their fortunes in the wide world, and the two of them made a pair. On they jogged and on they jogged, and the way was none too smooth. By-and-by they came to a great field covered all over with round stones.
“Let us each take one of these,” said Simon Agricola; “they will be of use by-and-by;” and, as he spoke, he picked up a great stone as big as his two fists, and dropped it into the pouch that dangled at his side.
“Not I,” said Babo; “I will carry no stone with me. It is as much as my two legs can do to carry my body, let along lugging a great stone into the bargain.”
“Very well,” said Agricola; “born a fool, live a fool, die a fool.’” And on he tramped, with Babo at his heels.
At last they came to a great wide plain, where, far or near, nothing was to be seen but bare sand, without so much as a pebble or a single blade of grass, and there night caught up with them.
“Dear, dear, but I am hungry!” said Babo.
“So am I,” said Simon Agricola. “Let’s sit down here and eat.”
So down they sat, and Simon Agricola opened his pouch and drew forth the stone.
The stone? It was a stone no longer, but a fine loaf of white bread as big as your two fists. You should have seen Babo goggle and stare! “Give me a piece of your bread, master,” said he.
“Not I,” said Agricola. “You might have had a dozen of the same kind, had you chosen to do as I bade you and to fetch them along with you. Born a fool, live a fool, die a fool,’” said he; and that was all that Babo got for his supper. As for the wise man, he finished his loaf of bread to the last crumb, and then went to sleep with a full stomach and a contented mind.
The next morning off they started again bright and early, and before long they came to just such another field of stones as they left behind them the day before.
“Come, master,” said Babo, “let us each take a stone with us. We may need something more to eat before the day is over.”
“No,” said Simon Agricola; “we will need no stones to-day.”
But Babo had no notion to go hungry the second time, so he hunted around till he found a stone as big as his head. All day he carried it, first under one arm, and then under the other. The wise man stepped along briskly enough, but the sweat ran down Babo’s face like drops on the window in an April shower. At last they came to a great wide plain, where neither stock nor stone was to be seen, but only a gallows-tree, upon which one poor wight hung dancing upon nothing at all, and there night caught them again.