Kelch wandered deeper and deeper into the forest, which became wilder and more savage as he advanced, but still he did not come across the looked-for castle. Night was coming on, and the wood was full of sombre shadows, while behind the trees flushed the fierce red light of the setting sun. It was a faery forest, and all the ground was covered with soft grass, and strange flowers which only bloomed at night-time; while overhead the nightingales sang most deliciously in the trees, and at intervals the wise owls hooted in the most unexpected manner. As it was now quite dark, Kelch thought he would sleep under a great oak tree until the morning, and then once more set out upon his travels; so he ate some food he had brought with him, drank from a stream which sparkled by, and after saying his prayers,—for he was a good lad,—rested his head upon his knapsack and went fast asleep. In the middle of the night, however, he woke suddenly under the influence of enchantment, for the whole of the forest was flooded with the silver moonlight, and on every side the faeries were holding their revels. Having drank of the waters of the brook, Kelch had come under the charm of faery power, and, to his surprise, was able to understand the talk of two elves who sat chattering to one another on the broad white cup of a lily. “Who is this youth lying asleep?” asked the first elf, never thinking for a moment Kelch was awake, and only kept his eyes closed in order to hear what they had to say. “He is called Kelch,” said the other elf, “and loves Filina, who is to marry old Hocky. He is now searching for the castle of the Wicked Baron, to ask for gold.” “He’ll never find it,” observed the first faery, “unless he asks the Owl who lives in the oak tree under which he sleeps.” “Then I will ask the Owl,” cried Kelch, sitting up, whereupon both faeries flew away in great alarm, much to his regret, as he wanted to make inquiries about the Owl. He looked up at the tree, but could see nothing save the branches interlaced against the clear sky, and now and then a gleam of moonlight on the rough bark of the trunk. As Kelch had often heard that song was the only way to invoke faeries, he thought he would try the same means with the owl. So, springing to his feet, he began to sing, making up the words as he went along: “Fairy Owl, Clever fowl, Please tell me Where to see The castle old, Where Baron bold Hoards up his gold.” The words were not very good, but they told exactly what he wanted to know, and the Owl put her head out of a hole in the tree with a wild hoot, her eyes glowing red like burning coals. “Go away, boy,” croaked the Owl angrily, “and do not disturb me in my grief. The Baron is dead, and I am in mourning for him.”