Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Fairy tales; Fantasy literature
“Ho! ho!” thought the soldier, “is that the way the wind
blows?”--“Did I say ten dollars?” said he; “’twas a hundred
dollars I meant.”
At that the old man frowned until his eyes shone green. “Very
well,” said he, “if it is a hundred dollars you want, you will have
to come home with me, for I have not so much with me.” Thereupon he
entered the town with the soldier at his heels.
Up one street he went and down another, until at last he came to
a great, black, ancient, ramshackle house; and that was where he
lived. In he walked without so much as a rap at the door, and so
led the way to a great room with furnaces and books and bottles
and jars and dust and cobwebs, and three grinning skulls upon the
mantelpiece, each with a candle stuck atop of it, and there he left
the soldier while he went to get the hundred dollars.
The soldier sat him down upon a three-legged stool in the corner
and began staring about him; and he liked the looks of the place as
little as any he had seen in all of his life, for it smelled musty
and dusty, it did: the three skulls grinned at him, and he began to
think that the little old man was no better than he should be. “I
wish,” says he, at last, “that instead of being here I might be
well out of my scrape and in a safe place.”
[Illustration]
Now the little old man in scarlet was a great magician, and there
was little or nothing in that house that had not some magic about
it, and of all things the three-legged stool had been conjured the
most.
“I wish that instead of being here I might be well out of my
scrape, and in a safe place.” That was what the soldier said; and
hardly had the words left his lips when--whisk! whir!--away flew
the stool through the window, so suddenly that the soldier had only
just time enough to gripe it tight by the legs to save himself from
falling. Whir! whiz!--away it flew like a bullet. Up and up it
went--so high in the air that the earth below looked like a black
blanket spread out in the night; and then down it came again,
with the soldier still griping tight to the legs, until at last it
settled as light as a feather upon a balcony of the king’s palace;
and when the soldier caught his wind again he found himself without
a hat, and with hardly any wits in his head.
There he sat upon the stool for a long time without daring to move,
for he did not know what might happen to him next. There he sat and
sat, and by-and-by his ears got cold in the night air, and then
he noticed for the first time that he had lost his head gear, and
bethought himself of the feather cap in his pocket. So out he drew
it and clapped it upon his head, and then--lo and behold!--he found
he had become as invisible as thin air--not a shred or a hair of
him could be seen. “Well!” said he, “here is another wonder, but I
am safe now at any rate.” And up he got to find some place not so
cool as where he sat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account