"My sixpence is gone," he said to himself, "and I have received
nothing in exchange but a handful of rye! How can I make my fortune
with that?"
He did not despair, however, but picked up the sack and continued his
way along the dusty road. Soon it became too dark to travel farther,
and Gilligren stepped aside into a meadow, where, lying down upon the
sweet grass, he rolled the sack into a pillow for his head and
prepared to sleep.
The rye that was within the sack, however, hurt his head, and he sat
up and opened the sack.
"Why should I keep a handful of rye?" he thought, "It will be of no
value to me at all."
So he threw out the rye upon the ground, and rolling up the sack again
for a pillow, was soon sound asleep. When he awoke the sun was shining
brightly over his head and the twitter and chirping of many birds fell
upon his ears. Gilligren opened his eyes and saw a large flock of
blackbirds feeding upon the rye he had scattered upon the ground. So
intent were they upon their feast they never noticed Gilligren at all.
He carefully unfolded the sack, and spreading wide its opening threw
it quickly over the flock of black birds. Some escaped and flew away,
but a great many were caught, and Gilligren put his eye to the sack
and found he had captured four and twenty. He tied the mouth of the
sack with a piece of twine that was in his pocket, and then threw the
sack over his shoulder and began again his journey to London.
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