So Bobo sat down on a stone by the foot of the tree, and put on the
wooden shoes, which fitted him very nicely. Now these shoes were magic
shoes, and Bobo had hardly stepped into them before they turned his feet
inland. So Bobo obediently let the shoes guide him. At corners the shoes
always turned in the right direction, and if Bobo forgot and blundered
on the wrong way, the shoes swiftly began to pinch his toes.
For two days Bobo walked inland toward the great mountain. A warm wind
blew the clouds and rain away, the sun shone sweet and clear. On the
morning of the third day, the simpleton entered a wood of tall silent
trees, and as that day was drawing to a close, turrets of a magnificent
castle rose far away over the leaves of the forest.
Bobo arrived at twilight.
He found himself in a beautiful garden, lying between the castle walls
and the rising slopes of a great mountain. Strange to say, not a living
creature was to be seen, and though there were lights in the castle,
there was not even a warder at the gate. Suddenly a great booming bell
struck seven o'clock; Bobo began to hear voices and sounds; and then,
before the humming of the bell had died away, a youth mounted on a
splendid black horse dashed at lightning speed out of the castle and
disappeared in the wood. An old man with a white beard, accompanied by
eleven young men, whom Bobo judged, from their expressions, to be
brothers,--stood by the gate to see the horseman ride away.
Plucking up courage, Bobo came forward, fell on his knee before the old
man, and told his story.
"Truly, you should thank the storm fairies," said the old man; "for had
you not been wrecked upon this island, never would you have discovered
the lost half-hour. I am Father Time himself, and these are my twelve
sons, the Hours. Every day, one after the other, they ride for an hour
round the whole wide world. Seven O'clock has just ridden forth. Yes,
you shall have the lost half-hour, but you must look after my sons'
horses for the space of a whole year."
To this Bobo willingly agreed. So Twelve O'Clock, who was the youngest
of the Hours, took him to the stables and showed him the little room in
the turret that he was to have. And thus for a year Bobo served Father
Time and his sons. He took such good care of the great black horses of
the Hours of the Night, and the white horses of the Hours of the Day,
that they were never more proud and strong, nor their coats smoother and
more gleaming.
When the year was up, Bobo again sought out Father Time.
"You have served faithfully and well," said Father Time. "Here is your
reward." And, with these words, he placed in Bobo's hands a small square
casket made of ebony. "The half-hour lies inside. Don't try to peek at it
or open the box until the right time has come. If you do, the half-hour
will flyaway and disappear forever."
"Farewell, Bobo," said kind young Twelve O'Clock, who had been the
simpleton's good friend. "I, too, have a gift for thee. Drink this cup
of water to the last drop." And the youth handed the simpleton a silver
cup full to the brim of clear shining water.
Now this water was the water of wisdom, and when Bobo had drunk it, he
was no longer a simpleton. And being no longer a simpleton, he
remembered the man who had lost his reputation, the man who had lost his
temper, and the king whose daughter had been stolen by the fairies. So
Bobo made so bold as to ask Father Time about them, for Father Time
knows everything that has happened in the whole wide world.
"Tell the first," said Father Time, "that his reputation has been broken
into a thousand pieces which have been picked up by his neighbors and
carried home. If he can persuade his neighbors to give them up, he
should be able to piece together a pretty good reputation again. As for
the man who lost his temper, tell him that it is to be found in the
grass by the roadside close by the spot where you first met him. As for
the missing daughter, she is the kitchen-maid in Princess Zenza's
palace, who is known as Tilda."
So Bobo thanked Father Time, and at noon, Twelve O'Clock placed him
behind him on the white charger, and hurried away. So fast they flew
that Bobo, who was holding the ebony casket close against his heart, was
in great danger of falling off. When they got to the seashore, the white
horse hesitated not an instant, but set foot upon the water, which bore
him up as if it had been, not water, but earth itself. Once arrived at
the shore of Fairyland, Twelve O'Clock stopped, wished Bobo good-speed,
and, rising in the air, disappeared into the glare of the sun. Bobo,
with the precious ebony casket in his hand, continued on in the
direction of Princess Zenza's palace.
On the second morning of his journey, he happened to see far ahead of
him on the highway the unfortunate aged man who had lost his reputation.
To him, therefore, Bobo repeated the counsel of Father Time, and sent
him hurrying home to his neighbors' houses. Of the man who had lost his
temper, Bobo found no sign. In the grass by the roadside, however, he
did find the lost temper--a queer sort of affair like a melon of fiery
red glass all stuck over with uneven spines and brittle thorns. Bobo,
with great goodness of heart, took along this extraordinary object, in
the hope of finding its angry possessor.
Farther on, the lad encountered Tilda's father, the unhappy King, and
delivered his message. The joy of the monarch knew no bounds, and Bobo,
the one-time simpleton, became on the spot Lord Bobo of the Sapphire
Hills, Marquis of the Mountains of the Moon, Prince of the Valley of
Golden Apples, and Lord Seneschal of the proud City of Zizz--in a word,
the greatest nobleman in all Fairyland. Then, having got together a
magnificent cohort of dukes, earls, and counts, all in splendid silks,
and soldiers in shining armor, the delighted King rode off to claim his
missing daughter from Princess Zenza.
So on they rode, the harnesses jingling, the bridle-bells ringing, and
the breastplates of the armed men shining in the sun. After a week of
almost constant progress (for the King was so anxious to see his beloved
daughter that he would hardly give the cavalcade time to rest), they
came to the frontiers of Princess Zenza's kingdom.
Strange to say, black mourning banners hung from the trees, and every
door in the first village which the travelers saw was likewise hung with
black streamers. On the steps of one of the cottages sat an old woman,
all alone and weeping with all her might.
"What is the matter, my good woman?" said the King.
"O sir," said the peasant woman, "evil days have fallen upon our unhappy
kingdom. Three days ago a terrible dragon alighted in the gardens of the
palace and sent word to Princess Zenza that if within three days she did
not provide him with someone brave enough to go home with him and cook
his meals and keep his cavern tidy, he would burn our fields with his
fiery breath. Yet who, I ask you, would be housekeeper for a dragon?
Suppose he did n't like the puddings you made for him--why, he might eat
you up! All would have been lost had not a brave little kitchen-maid
named Tilda volunteered to go. It is for her that we are mourning. At
two o'clock she is to be carried off by the dragon. It is almost two
now. Alas! Alas!"
Hardly were the words out of her mouth, when the town bell struck twice,
solemnly and sadly.
"Quick! quick!" cried the King and Bobo in the same breath, "Let us
hurry to the castle. We may save her yet."
But they knew in their hearts that they were too late, and that poor
Tilda had given herself to the dragon. And so it proved. In spite of his
mad dash, Bobo, who had spurred on ahead, arrived exactly half an hour
late. The monstrous dragon with Tilda in his claws was just a little
smoky speck far down the southern sky. Princess Zenza and her court
stood by wringing their jeweled hands.
Suddenly Bobo thought of the half-hour. He had arrived half an hour
late, but he could have that half-hour back again! Things should be
exactly as they were half an hour before.
He opened the cover of the ebony box. Something like a winged white
flame escaped from it, and flew hissing through the air to the sun. As
for the sun itself, turning round like a cartwheel and hissing like ten
thousand rockets, it rolled back along the sky to the east. The hands of
the clocks, which marked half-past two, whirred back to two o'clock in a
twinkling. And, sure enough, there was brave little Tilda standing alone
in a great field waiting for the dragon to come and take her away.
Lumbering heavily along like a monstrous turtle, and snorting blue
smoke, the dragon was advancing toward her.
Bobo ran down into the field and stood beside Tilda, ready to defend her
to the end.
The dragon came nearer and nearer. Suddenly, angered by the sight of
Bobo and his drawn sword, he roared angrily, but continued to approach.
Bobo struck at him with his sword. The blade broke upon his steely
scales. The dragon roared again. Now just as the dragon's mouth was its
widest, Bobo who had been searching his pockets desperately, hurled into
it the lost temper.
There was a perfectly terrific bang! as if a million balloons had blown
up all at once. For the dragon had blown up. The lost temper had
finished him. Only one fragment of him, a tiny bit of a claw, was ever
found.
Everybody, you may be sure, began to cry "Hurrah" and "Hooray," and soon
they were firing off cannon and ringing all the bells. Then Tilda's
father took her in his arms, and told her that she was a real princess.
The Grand Cross of the Order of the Black Cat was conferred upon Bobo by
Princess Zenza, who also asked his pardon for having treated him so
shabbily. This Bobo gave readily. A wonderful fete was held. When the
rejoicings were over, Bobo and Tilda were married, and lived happily
together all their days.