"'Well, Three Wits,' said the little old man, 'I'll tell you. The man, the horse, and the dogs, are under a spell. They are bewitched, and they will continue to be bewitched until doomsday, unless the spell is broken. They will go round and round on the trail until they exhaust themselves, and then they will gradually grow thinner and thinner until they disappear; and then nothing will be heard but the barking of the dogs, and the sound of that will grow fainter and fainter, until no human ear can hear it. Now, the question is, Three Wits, do you wish the spell broken?' "'I do,' replied the boy, 'for my mother's sake.' "'Now that is well spoken,' said the old man, rising and laying his hand gently on the boy's head. 'For, behold, Three Wits, what is written in the book.' "The old man opened the red volume and read as follows, pointing to each word with his finger:-- "'Whoever shall, for the sake of his mother, earnestly desire to break the spells worked by Paggia Paggiola, the Hunting-Witch, is in a way to have his desire fulfilled. For this is the indispensable condition. Moreover, he who hopes to succeed must have the innocence of youth and the courage of manhood. On his left arm there should grow a mole, and in this mole are three white hairs.' "'I have the mole,' said the boy, opening his vest. "Sure enough, there was the mole, and on the mole were growing three long white hairs as fine as silk. With a pair of silver tweezers that he found in his wallet, the little old man pulled the long white hairs from the mole. One by one he pulled them. One by one he ran them through his fingers, and one by one they seemed to grow longer and stronger, each time they were pulled through the little old man's swift-moving fingers. "Then, searching in his wallet, he found three ivory bobbins; and on these he wound the long, strong, and silken hairs. He wound and wound, and as he wound he sang:-- "'Now on this bobbin I wind a hair, White, and silken, and long; I wind it slow, I wind it fair, Glossy, and white, and strong. "'I wind it here in shade and sun, For one, one, one are three-- Three and no more where the stag shall run, Close by the chestnut-tree. "'And one shall catch, and two shall hold, And three shall clamp and kill; Just say to your hand, Be steady and bold; And say to your heart, I will.' "The boy was surprised to see, as the old man sang and wound, that the white hairs spun out into silver wires hundreds of feet long, and stronger than steel.