“Pooh!” he replied. “No fear of that; I can take care of myself. And as for his dinner,” he added, “get him some radishes. There are plenty about here. I had nothing but radishes for my dinner, and very good they were, though rather biting. Let down the bucket, please! I am all right.” “What are radishes?” the cook called after him as he went down. “Long red things, stupid! with green leaves to them!” he shouted; and then, in a moment, he found himself at the bottom of the well. The little old man was delighted to see him, and told him that he had lived down there forty years, and had never had a visitor before in all that time. “Why do you live down here?” inquired the traveller. “Because I cannot get out,” replied the little old man. “But how did you get down here in the first place?” “Really,” he said, “it is so long ago that I hardly remember. My impression is, however, that I came down in the bucket.” “Then why, in the name of common-sense,” said the traveller, “don’t you go _up_ in the bucket?” The little old man sprang up from the three-legged stool, and flung his arms around the traveller’s neck. “My _dear_ friend!” he cried rapturously. “My precious benefactor! Thank you a thousand times for those words! I assure you I never thought of it before! I will go up at once. You will excuse me?” “Certainly,” said the traveller. “Go up first, and I will follow you.” [Illustration: “‘’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good!’”] The little old man got into the bucket, and was drawn up to the top of the well. But, alas! when the cook saw his long red nose and his long green coat, she said to herself, “This must be a radish! how lucky I am!” and seizing the poor little old man, she popped him into the kettle without more ado. Then she let the bucket down for the traveller, calling to him to make haste, as she wanted to send down her master’s dinner. Up came the traveller, and looking around, asked where her master was. “Where should he be,” said the cook, “but at the bottom of the well, where you left him?” “What do you mean?” exclaimed the traveller. “He has just come up in the bucket!” “_Oh_!” cried the cook. “Oh! _oh_!! o-o-o-h!!! was that my master? Why, I thought he was a radish, and I have boiled him for his own dinner!” “I hope he will have a good appetite!” said the traveller. The cook was a good woman, and her grief was so excessive that she fell into the kettle and was boiled too. Then the traveller, who had formerly been an ogre by profession, said, “’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good! My dinner was very insufficient;” and he ate both the little old man and the cook, and proceeded on his journey with a cheerful heart. * * * * * Transcriber’s Notes: Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Page 56, “the” changed to “she” (she knew her master would) End of Project Gutenberg's The Golden-Breasted Kootoo, by Laura E. Richards