Little Tom liked the manly courage of this hero. He seemed braver than all the other knights, for he knew how to suffer and bear torture and to sacrifice himself for the poor princess. Tom thought that such sacrifice was more beautiful than all the heroic deeds. He wished that he could have such an adventure and give himself to torture, so that he might free a princess. One morning, before going to the field, the Godmother placed Tom on the floor as usual, and then went out to get Speckle. As Tom ran about the room, he came suddenly upon a great brass cylinder. Never before had he seen it there and he wondered what it could be. He wanted to climb up but it was so round and so smooth that he could find no foothold. He ran to the hearth and taking a strong twig which he rested against the cylinder clambered to the top; but when he got there his twig slipped and fell down on the floor. Tom then noticed that on the top of the cylinder was a little depression and, in its centre, a hook from which a strong chain ran up in the air. He seated himself by this hook and was almost breathless when he thought that it might be a bucket lowered to the earth by its great chain from an enchanted castle in the sky. He sat waiting for the chain to pull him up, trembling with pleasure at the thought that he would get into the castle and rescue the enchanted princess. He was not at all afraid of the pain or the torture, for he knew that if he did not cry out, the great bird would fly into the castle bearing the princess he had set free. At that moment, the Godmother returned, took up her cloak and was about to leave the room again when she suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to wind the clock. So she went to the wall, and taking hold of the little hook, lifted the run-down weight from the floor to the clock. She did not notice Little Tom sitting on the weight; but he heard a terrible noise and felt himself hoisted by the chain into the sky. He did not speak or cry out, for he knew if he should make a noise, the evil spirits would tear him to pieces. The Godmother went out to her work in the field and there sat Little Tom on the weight at a dizzy height, up in the air under the enchanted castle. The rattling of the chain had ceased, but above him in the castle, Tom heard a strong voice repeating, »Tick, tack, tick, tack«. At first Tom was frightened by this moving spectre, but he soon discovered that it never went away from the wall. This calmed his fears and he decided that he would go farther into the dark rooms of the castle, in spite of the poisonous odors that came from them. Returning to his chain he clambered higher and higher, until he came to the powerful cylinder around which the chain was wound. Everywhere, it was dusty and musty with much dark, greasy slime which soiled his hands and clothes. Such a desolate, lonely castle he had never dreamed could exist. Nowhere, a living soul.