“Surely. All in a heap they looked like mountains and valleys, ravines, plains, precipices and grottoes—all kinds of things. It was a great pleasure to travel all over it. I climbed up and slid down. I sat on round things like immense tubes.” “They were folds.” “I know it, but your folds are gigantic to me. As I went around I discovered the entrance to a cave. I went in. It was a long tunnel where I had to crawl on all fours. When I got half-way in I wanted to turn around; but I couldn’t, for my hands and feet got caught in the folds, so I had to go forward.” “I see; you were in one of the sleeves.” “When I came out from the tunnel, I discovered a great opening with a shed over it. I entered and found a cavern full of paper.” “It was a pocket.” “I traveled around until I found a little hole I could scarcely squeeze through.” “Ah, yes! My pocket is a little ripped.” “I was now in a large and empty, wearisome place, and when I wanted to get back I couldn’t find the hole through which I entered. Imagine my suffering! After a while I felt you take up the clothes and put them on. I screamed as loud as I could, but you didn’t hear me. I knew that you were looking for me, but I could do nothing. But, at last, you heard me and I am saved.” “I say, Fiam....” “Miferino!” “You ought to promise me not to go out at night or I shall be obliged to make you an iron house and shut you up for a hundred years. Just think, if I lose you the first person who finds you will burn you up without giving you time to say, ‘Ouch!’” He promised. But a few days later he was gone again. [Illustration: A Change of Residence] CHAPTER XIII A CHANGE OF RESIDENCE This time I was sure I should never find him. I went three whole days without seeing him. Every evening I shook my clothes, uselessly repeating my search. I would have given ten years of my life, and paid a large sum of money, to have found him. I blamed myself for not having looked thoroughly; perhaps I had left him on the ground among the coarse Chinese mats of the house in which I had passed the night. On the third evening, having a little spare time, I started to develop some instantaneous photographs that I had taken during the journey. To my immense surprise Fiam appeared in every picture, or rather his shadow, thrown across each landscape. It was evident that Fiam was shut up inside of the camera. I opened it and called inside: “Fiam!” holding it near my ear. “For pity’s sake help me!” It was his little voice beseeching. “Take me out of this!” He was so desperate that he had forgotten his usual correction of “Miferino.” “Come out yourself.” “I can’t. They are holding me by the leg.” “Who are?” “I don’t know who; please help me.” I looked and saw my friend held by one foot caught in the spring of the box. It was not easy to get him out. His foot was broken, and when I put him on the table he limped. “What were you doing in there?” “That awful place,” he whined.