The first thing that Wendell noticed was that it was all written or printed by hand and was evidently the work of different persons; that is, the letters, some in print, some in script, changed their character from page to page, and the ink was in varying degrees of paleness, as if the transcription had been made at different epochs. Wendell observed also that the pages of paper differed. In fact, some of them were not paper at all. There were pages of very thin leather of different shades, and a sort of tough fibrous substance (that was parchment, had Wendell known it), and some strips of bark, like bark of the birch or ash. And there were paper leaves, also, but yellowed and old, none of it modern. The Book was evidently a bound collection of old manuscripts, brought together from what sources, by what means, and through how many ages, the boy could not even guess. But it was a fascinating thing for magic-loving Wendell to examine, even though much of it was unintelligible, and much more of no possible use to Wendell. He turned the brittle, fragile pages with the utmost care, fingering each at the right-hand top corner, and turning the entire page with his flat hand, very, very carefully. The titles of the chapters, or charms, or whatever they were, delighted him beyond measure:-- “HOW TO TURN WOOD INTO SILVER. HOW TO TURN BASE METALS INTO GOLD. HOW TO MAKE IRON FLOAT. TO CHANGE AN INFANT PRINCE INTO A HUMMING BIRD. TO CUT OFF A DRAGON’S HEAD. HOW TO UNDERSTAND THE LANGUAGE OF BIRDS. HOW TO MAKE A FLYING SHIP.” (“Huh! Magic aviation!” commented Wendell.) “THE EASIEST WAY TO DISENCHANT A DUMB PRINCESS. HOW TO MAKE WINGED SANDALS. SOME TRIED METHODS FOR KILLING GIANTS.” “There you are, Wendell, my boy,” said a friendly voice, and Wendell looked around and found that the Pixie was looking over his shoulder at the Book. CHAPTER XV A CHOICE OF CHARMS “Hello, old sport!” said Wendell; “I didn’t expect you till Monday.” “Oh, I just dropped in,” said the Pixie. “Great book, isn’t it? But, go easy, son, go easy. Danger, you know.” “Yes, I am going easy,” said Wendell. “I haven’t read one word out loud. It’s some book, though!” “Let’s read that thing about giants,” suggested the Pixie. “That ought to just suit your case.” “I suppose there’s no harm in reading _this_ aloud,” said Wendell, hesitatingly. “Just sort of directions, you see.” “Go slowly,” commanded the Pixie. “And if you see any charm coming to meet you, stop short.” Wendell read:-- “‘SOME TRIED METHODS FOR KILLING GIANTS. “‘Method ye first:--To kill a giant--’” “Put salt on his tail,” interpolated the Pixie. “Please listen,” said Wendell, and went on,-- “‘Dig a hole deeper than his height a few steps from his door. Cover it with branches of trees. Standing on the further side, away from his house, taunt him in a loud voice. When he rushes out, he will fall into the hole, and can be easily despatched.’”