under her shawl, and the lad unprovided
with marbles on account of the short notice.
On they went, up hill and down dale, until
it seemed to the boy that they had walked
the whole day. The sun seemed to be
setting, but the woman still urged him on
and on. At last she saw they were standing
on sloping ground, so she rolled down
the cheese, as if it had escaped from her
hands, sent him after it, and while he ran
down on one side she turned back on the
other. The country was thickly wooded,
but she knew it well, and after many
windings through the forest arrived at
the cottage. There she found her husband
awaiting her, and there and then she
invented the most dismal story. They had
lost themselves in the wood, she said; then
she had asked her son to wait a few
minutes at the foot of a tree while she
went to see which of two cross-paths they
were to take. She remained away, only a
few minutes, she said, and on returning to
the spot where she had left him, she found
he was gone. "Do not make yourself
uneasy," she added, "for the lad is sure to
come home." But days, weeks, months,
passed, and at last years, and the lad never
came home. The mason mourned for his
son, and the fat friar enjoyed his dinners
undisturbed, and got fatter. But the justice
of Heaven never slumbers.

And now to return to the boy, and take
him up from the moment when his cruel
mother deserted him. He ran down the
hill, after the cheese; but as it was as round
as a wheel, it kept on rolling, and rolling,
and bounding, and bounding, and never
stopped till it got on flat ground. The lad,
excited by the chase, never thought of time
or distance. But when he had to wend
his way slowly through furze and brush-
wood, and when the darkness began to lower,
his heart failed him, and he burst into tears.
When he had got to the top of the hill it was
night, and there was no moon. The lad at
last cried himself to sleep, and lay at the
foot of the nearest tree. When the dawn
broke, he awoke as if something had pushed
against his back. He sat up, rubbed his
eyes, looked at the tree against which he
had rested during the night, and, to his
amazement, saw a little door open, from
which a little green dwarf emerged.

"I am the spirit of the wood," he said;
"and who are you?"

Then the boy told his sad tale, and asked
the dwarf if he could put him on his road;
but the dwarf shook his head, and told him
he was a silly boy, that he would be got
rid of in a still more cruel manner if he
returned home.

"Open your eyes to the real state of
things. Stay in the wood," said the
dwarf, "and you shall be revenged. Stay
in the wood, and I may bring you those
who have injured you." Then he gave
the lad some chestnuts, and some water
fresh from a spring close by. He then led
him to a little hut. It contained all the
necessaries of life, and on the table lay a
gun and a flute. "This gun will bring
down all the game you can want, and this
flute will make any one dance at your
bidding," said the dwarf.

Years rolled on, and the boy grew into a
young man. One day, a fat monk chanced to
pass through the wood. He came up to the
hut. The young man knew him at once,
and anger boiled in his heart. The monk,
however, could not recognise the boy; he
looked quite another person now, he was so
much taller, stouter, and darker. So the
monk begged for alms, and promised many
benedictions in return.

"Alas, holy father!" said the young man,
"I had but one piece of money, and it might
have lasted me a long time; but I dropped it
in that thicket of thorns yonder. I am afraid
of venturing in the thicket; but if you have
the heart to look for the piece of money
there, it shall be yours."

The greedy monk at once rushed to the
thicket, and stooped under it, crawling on all
fours. When he was fairly in the midst of
the thorny bush, the young man took his
flute and began to play. Up stood the
monk through briars and thorns, compelled
to dance, and to tear himself and his clothes
to rags. Higher and higher he jumped
and capered, crying for mercy, while the
blood streamed from him on every side. But
his cries for mercy were unheeded, and
the pitiless youth played faster and faster
till the monk expired. Then the lad fled
from the wood, on the wings of vengeance,
without forgetting the magic flute. Something
urged him onward. It seemed as if
he suddenly knew all the paths of the
forest. A day's journey brought him back
to his native village, and a few minutes more
brought him to the cottage where his parents
still lived. Trusting to his altered appearance,
he knocked at the door. Husband
and wife were at home.

"Will you give some supper and a
night's rest, to a weary traveller willing to
pay?" he said, in a feigned voice.

"You are welcome," they both
answered.