"So's your old beard," mumbled Jack in an annoyed voice. Picking up the shears Belfaygor had dropped he cut length after length from the enchanted red beard, while the baron continued to wring his hands and groan and Peter tried in vain to comfort the Iffin. CHAPTER 8 A Way to Cross the Chasm "I'll wager that old Jinn did this on purpose," declared Jack indignantly. "I'll ring that dumb-bell again and the boy's neck, too!" "It wasn't his fault," put in Peter, lifting Snif from his shoulder and thoughtfully stroking the small red head. "I don't suppose those violets were meant to be eaten." "If I only hadn't eaten them," wailed the Iffin, as two tears rolled down his cheeks. "You've no idea how it feels to shrink, boys. "Why did I eat those violets? I feel so sil and small! I'm just an elf, I'm not myself, I'm just no one at all!" "Oh, yes you are," Peter reassured him hastily. "Why look, you'll fit right in my pocket and I'll carry you for a change and when we reach the Emerald City the Wizard of Oz will soon make you large again." "Are we to reach the Emerald City?" inquired Jack, looking up from snipping Belfaygor's beard. "And how do you know you won't shrink yourself?" Peter turned a little pale at Jack's question. "The baron and I didn't eat any violets," he answered, swallowing hastily. "Yes, but how are we to cross the chasm?" Belfaygor, taking the shears from Jack, rolled his eyes sadly at Peter. "We'll just have to think of some other way," said Peter, staring off at Mogodore's mountain. "Let's all think." "I can only think of poor little Shirley Sunshine, locked up in that dismal tower," retorted Belfaygor despondently. "I can only think how far it must be to the bottom of this crevice," muttered Jack, looking sadly down into the ravine. "It looks to me as if we'd have to do all the thinking for this party," murmured Snif, flying up on Peter's shoulder. "Never mind, I still can think, even if I am little. "If I do a little thinking and I think a little bit, If there's any way to cross it, why I'll surely think of it!" "I'm glad you can still make verses," said Peter with a sigh. "It helps, and makes things seem a little less awful." "Yes," said the Iffin, resting his cheek against Peter's. The sun had dropped down behind the red castle and in the gray light of early evening the grim city on the rocks looked more forbidding than ever. Great black crows circled about the towers and turrets and their hoarse crys drifted like threatening jeers across the chasm. "If we had an ax," said Peter gloomily, "we might chop down a tree on the edge of the chasm so it would fall across." He was just wondering whether the ravine was narrow enough to jump at any point, when Snif gave a little bounce and, flying off his shoulder, announced shrilly: "I have thought of a way! We'll cross on the baron's beard!"