He gave her no courteous greeting when she stood before him, but stretched his mighty arm and shoved her unceremoniously into a seat not far from himself. “What do you come to ask of me? Out with it quickly,” he growled, with some impatience, for Black Shadow had not dared to speak at once, but sat in silence for a moment considering how best to deliver the message of the Wizard so that it might meet with favor. Thus commanded, however, she delayed no longer and presently had told her story to the end. The Wind heard her with unconcealed pleasure. “Ho, ho!” he howled, puffing his round cheeks till they seemed like to burst. “We shall have great sport with this bold prince when he ventures forth from the Elf’s dwelling. He shall nowhere be safe from me, for I am the Wind in the Chimney, and nothing stops or stays me in what I set out to do. Prince Ember has no magic that will be proof against me, and so far as anything that the Elf can do for him goes, I scorn it.” So confident was he that he laughed till the Chimney shook and rattled, and the soot that lined its walls fell thick over the head and shoulders of his guest. Hearing their master’s uproarious laughter, the Breezes came stealing in to discover its cause, but the Wind frowned upon them and buffeted them to right and left so sternly that they rushed quickly out again without daring to speak. The Wind turned to Black Shadow. “Go back to the Wizard,” he commanded her gruffly. “Tell him that the Chimney shall fall in ruins, and the Wind himself become as the faintest of his Breezes before this stranger prince succeeds in his purpose of setting free the Shadow Witch.” He shook his mantle, he tossed his great shaggy head and whistled loudly. “I am the Wind—the Wind in the Chimney! Heugh, heugh! Ho, ho! Heugh, heugh!” Pursued by his braggart whistlings and the hoarse echoings of his mirth, Black Shadow left him and hurried back to the Wizard’s Cave to make known to him the success of her mission. [Illustration] CHAPTER VII When Prince Ember said farewell to Creeping Shadow and stepped into the Elf’s house, he found himself in a curious room whose walls were grey with ash, whose floor was covered so thick with it, that his feet sank into it, and made no sound. It was as if he trod on softest down. In the middle of the room stood the Elf, with pudgy hand extended. “Welcome, good Prince,” he said heartily. “You come on the business of the Shadow Witch, for I know the knock of her servant, Creeping Shadow. What is it that you desire?” “I am on my way to deliver the Shadow Witch,” the Prince made answer, taking his hand. “The Wise One has bade me ask of you a certain marvelous Cloak of Ash, to conceal me from my enemies. He says that here only is the secret of its making known, and that you will not refuse to provide me with it.”