burst into the room. They had heard the noise of the genie's coming
and were afraid Ellen was getting away. But as they saw a terrible
black being crouching there before the little girl, they shrank back in
terror. The next instant, however, one of the boldest of them sprang
forward to tear the lamp from Ellen's hands.
At that she found her voice. "I wish," she cried, "to be in a place of
safety with my gander."
Immediately, before she could catch her breath, she found herself being
whisked through the air by the genie. Then before she could catch her
breath she was set gently upon the ground.
When she could look about her she saw that she and the gander were
standing on a grassy plain some distance from the castle. She still
held the lamp in her hands, and the genie was still with her.
"Hast thou any further commands?" asked he, in his terrible voice.
"No," answered Ellen, trembling violently.
"Then I will go," said the genie, and he began to fade away.
"Oh, wait a minute," the child called after him. "What shall I do with
the lamp?"
"Wouldst thou not wish to keep it?"
"Why no, it isn't mine."
"Shall I return it to the castle?"
"Oh no, Mistress," the gander interrupted, "they might rub it and tell
the genie to bring us back and keep us prisoners."
"Then destroy it," the genie suggested.
"But what would become of Aladdin and his castle and everything if I
did?"
"They would stay as they are. And moreover if the lamp were destroyed
he would no longer be tormented with fears lest an enemy should steal
it and send me to destroy all he has."
"Very well," said Ellen, "I'll do it. But I can't break the lamp. How
_can_ I destroy it?"
"I will cause the earth to open,--to open down to the great fires
below. Then throw the lamp in and the flames will destroy it."
"Very well," said the little girl.
The genie struck his foot upon the ground and muttered some magic
words. Immediately the ground was rent open, and down in this chasm
could be heard the roaring of the under fires. "Make haste," he cried.
"Cast the lamp into the flames or they will devour thee."
Hardly knowing what she did Ellen threw the lamp from her down into the
fiery chasm.
Immediately there was a loud roaring like thunder. The earth and sky
seemed to shake and the castle to tremble from its foundation to its
highest turret. A mist came before Ellen's eyes. When it cleared away
all was still. The chasm had closed and the distant castle was still in
its place.
The gander, which had crouched down in its terror with its head and
neck stretched along the ground, arose slowly and looked about it.
The genie had become as thin as smoke, but he was standing there dark
and gigantic as before. "I am free! I am free!" he cried in a joyful
voice. "At last I may come and go as I choose, no longer a slave of the
lamp. It is you, child, who have freed me, and I am not ungrateful,
as you shall soon see. If I have made Aladdin rich and powerful, I
will make you ten times more so. You shall have a castle even more
magnificent than his with slaves and treasures and horses and chariots."
Ellen gasped. "Oh no," she said, "I don't think I want all that. I have
to go home pretty soon, and I don't believe I'd like to have to live in
a castle."
"But you could still go home," said the genie. "You could go home
in such magnificence as you never dreamed of, with outriders and
trumpeters and dressed in cloth of gold and precious stones."
But the thought of such magnificence frightened Ellen. "No, no," she
repeated. "I'm afraid my mother wouldn't like it."
The genie looked disappointed. "Well," he said, "Of course, it's just
as you like." He was still fading away and growing more mistlike.
"I wish," Ellen exclaimed, "that Aladdin knew what had become of the
lamp."
"Thy wish shall be granted," answered the genie. "I will myself tell
him that it has been destroyed. And now farewell, and remember if thou
shouldst ever wish to have that castle thou needst only clap thy hands
three times and call upon the genie of the lamp to fulfil his promise
and it shall be thine."
The genie had grown so transparent now that it was only by straining
her eyes that Ellen could still see his shape as one sees an empty
glass. Then he was gone entirely. "Thank you very much," she called
after him. She waited a moment and as there was no answer she called
again, "Thank you!" Then she turned to the gander. "I think he's gone,"
she said, adding in a whisper, "and I'm glad he has, because he _did_
frighten me a little, he was so very big and black."
The gander made no answer except to ask Ellen if she were ready to go.
He seemed anxious for them to be on their way once more, so the little
girl mounted on his back and they were soon flying swiftly along.
"I hope," said Ellen after a silence, "that Aladdin won't mind about
the lamp being burned up."
"I should think he would be glad," replied the gander. "He must have
been terribly afraid all the time that enemies would get it and make
the genie destroy him and his castle."
"Yes, that is true," said Ellen; then she added after another silence,
"And how glad that poor genie was that I had set him free at last."
_Chapter Eight_
_Bluebeard's House_
"Mistress, do you see that gray mist before us?" said the gander. "I
think we have reached the border of the Fairy Tale Country, and beyond
that mist lies the country of the Queerbodies."
Ellen drew rein, and the gander allowed himself to sink slowly to the
ground. There he folded and settled his wings, and he and his mistress
stood looking at the wall of mist before them. It was like the mist
that hangs over streams in the early morning. They could not tell at
all how high it was. Sometimes it looked quite low, and sometimes it
seemed to reach up to the sky itself so that they could not tell where
one ended and the other began.
"Look," cried Ellen in a whisper. "Do you suppose that is one of the
Queerbodies?"
A gigantic shadow had appeared upon the wall of mist. It moved with
such tremendous strides that it was out of sight in a moment. And now
they saw other shadows. Some seemed to be bending over and taking up
handfuls of earth and examining them as if in search of something.
Others seemed to reach up as if after invisible fruit. Some were
talking and nodding together, and every now and then one would turn and
hurry away, as if suddenly remembering some business.
They were not all as big as the first shadow, though some of them
stretched up so high that their heads and shoulders were lost in the
grayness of the sky.
"They must be the Queerbodies," said the gander in a low tone, "for I'm
sure they're not fairy tales."
"But they look so big,--like giants. Do you think they'll hurt us?
Just suppose they were wicked giants who ate children like so many
radishes." Ellen had read some place in a fairy story of giants who did
that.
"Maybe we'd better stop and ask some place," suggested the gander. "If
they ate children I'm sure they'd eat ganders too, for some people who
don't eat children at all eat ganders."
Then Ellen looked about and saw that not far away stood a very large,
fine house. It was not by any means as magnificent as Aladdin's, but
still it was very handsome.
"Let us ask at that house," said Ellen. "They live so close to the mist
that I'm sure they must know what goes on beyond, even if they have
never been there."
The gander was more than willing for this; so he took Ellen up and
flew with her to the house. There she alighted and mounted the steps,
but the door was so very grand and tall that she could not reach the
knocker, and had to knock with her knuckles.
There was a moment's silence, and then a voice within called, "Sister
Anne, Sister Anne, did you hear anything?"
Another voice answered, "I heard the brushing of the vine leaves
against the lattice, but I heard nothing else."
"Your knuckles are too soft, Mistress," said the gander; "let me
knock," and with his bill he struck against the door.
Again the same voice within called, "Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you
hear nothing now?" And the second voice answered, "I hear a woodpecker
tapping upon a branch outside, but that is all."
"Mistress, it is no use," said the gander, "you will have to climb upon
my back so as to reach the knocker, or they will never hear us."
So Ellen climbed upon the gander's back and then she found she could
just reach the knocker. Rap, rap, rap! she struck upon the door.
"Sister Anne, Sister Anne, do you still hear nothing?" cried the first
voice.
[Illustration]
"Yes, now I hear some one knocking upon the door."
In a moment the door opened and a lady stood in the doorway gazing with
wonder at the child and the gander.
"What is it, Sister? Who is there?" called the first voice impatiently.
"It's a child," answered the lady in the doorway. "A real child it
looks like."
Almost instantly another lady came hurrying down the hall and joined
the one at the door. She was more beautiful than the first, but her
face had a scared look as though she had once had such a fright that
she had never gotten over it.
"Why, yes, it is a real child," she cried. "You are a real child,
aren't you? Where did you come from, and where are you going? Is that
your gander? What are you going to do with it?"
There were so many questions that Ellen hardly knew which to answer
first, but she began, "I came through the nursery wall, and I'm trying
to find the Queerbodies' house, and this is Mother Goose's gander. She
just lent it to me for awhile."
"Going to the Queerbodies' house!" The beautiful lady glanced at her
sister. Then she took Ellen by the hand and drew her gently in. "Come
in and tell me all about it."
"I think I must hurry on," said Ellen. "It's been a longer journey than
I thought;" but she allowed herself to be drawn in.
The room where the strange ladies took her was very magnificently
furnished, and there the beautiful one whose name was Fatima made her
sit in a big armed chair. She offered another chair to the gander and
he seated himself in it as gravely as possible, resting his wings on
the arms. "And now," cried Fatima eagerly, "tell me all about it."
So Ellen began and told her about her journey, while Fatima listened
with her chin in her hand, and her eyes never leaving the child's face.
Sister Anne listened too. "But now," Ellen ended, "I feel afraid to go
any further, for it looks as though there were giants beyond that mist.
Do you know whether they're cross giants or not?"
Fatima started up and clasped her hands. "Oh if I only knew what they
_are_ like," she cried. "I watch from my window and long so to know
what they are doing and how they look that sometimes it seems as if I
could not bear it. Some day I know I shall go through the mist just to
find out."
"Fatima! Fatima!" cried Sister Anne warningly. Then she added, turning
to Ellen, "She's so curious. She always has been so, and that's what
all her troubles came from."
"Oh yes," murmured Fatima, dropping back in her chair. "I suppose you
know my story? I suppose you've heard of Bluebeard, haven't you?" and
leaning forward again she looked eagerly at Ellen.
"Oh yes, I have all about him in a book at home. It has colored
pictures, and there's a picture of Fatima with her hair all down, and
one of Sister Anne up on the tower and the brothers coming in, and ever
so many more."
"Oh yes, I shall never forget that time when my brothers came rushing
in. And then that day when I looked in the room and saw all the heads
in a row and dropped the key--" Fatima shuddered, and hid her face in
her hands.
"Are you really that Fatima?" asked Ellen. She was afraid it was hardly
polite to ask, but she did want so much to know.
"Yes, she is," Sister Anne answered for her, for Fatima seemed unable
to speak. "And I often remind her of all the troubles her curiosity
brought on her that time. A little more and her head would have been
chopped off; but she doesn't seem to have learned anything. She'd go
off to the Queerbodies' country now if I'd let her, just so as to see
what they're like. Then the first thing she knew they'd be making her
into another story, and she'd never get back."
"Yes, I _do_ want to know," cried Fatima. She leaned forward, and
caught Ellen by the wrist so suddenly that it startled her. "Couldn't
_you_ come back and tell me all about it," she cried.
"Why I--I don't know whether I come back this way; I hoped there was
a shorter way home," and Ellen's lip trembled, for she was getting a
little tired of her long journeyings in spite of her wish to find the
lost story.
"Then your gander; maybe he could come back."
"Oh yes," answered the gander, "I'll have to come back this way. But
the thing is, do we want to go any further. I didn't like the looks of
those giants myself."
"Oh yes," urged Fatima. "I wouldn't be afraid. Maybe it's only their
shadows that are so big. And then I tell you what; I'll give you
something that may help you along. Look!" With fingers that trembled
with eagerness she drew a key-ring from her pocket and slipped from it
a key. The key seemed to be of pure gold, but upon one side of it was a
rusty spot. Ellen wondered whether it was the key that had unlocked the
door of the forbidden chamber.
"Take this," said Fatima. "It is a magic key, and there is never a lock
it will not fit nor a catch it will not undo."
Ellen was slow about taking it. She glanced at the gander. "I don't
believe I want to go back, but I don't know."
The gander answered her look. "We'll go on then," he said, "and if we
have that key they can't keep us locked up, and my wings will be always
good to carry us out of trouble."
"And you'll bring me back word?" cried Fatima.
"Yes, I will," the gander promised.
And now Fatima was eager for them to go. It seemed as though she could
not wait to have her curiosity satisfied. Sister Anne would have had
them stay and rest awhile and have some refreshment after their long
journey, but Fatima could not hide her impatience to have them start.
And indeed Ellen and the gander were in as much haste as she.
Fatima went with them to the very edge of the wall of mist and the
last thing they heard as they plunged into it was her voice calling
after them, "Don't forget, you are to bring me word, and make haste;
make haste."
_Chapter Nine_
_Beyond the Mist_
"Oh how cold and still and gray," cried Ellen. They were in the very
heart of the mist. She could hear the steady beat of the gander's
wings, but the grayness around was so thick that she could see nothing
but the dim outline of his neck before her. She would not have known
whether they were moving at all if it had not been for the stir of air
against her face.
"Mistress, do you see light before us?" asked the gander.
"No, nothing but the grayness."
"One might travel around and around in this mist, and yet never find
one's way out," said the gander half to itself.
On and on it flew. "Is there no light before us yet?" it asked again,
and its wings seemed to flag.
"No, there is nothing."
"Can you hear any sound?"
Ellen listened. "Nothing but the beating of your wings."
"Mistress, I no longer know whether I am flying forward or not. For all
I can tell I may be going around in a circle."
The child looked helplessly about her.
"I wonder if I were to blow upon the horn the huntsman gave me whether
some one would hear and answer?" she suggested.
"You might try it."
Ellen raised the horn to her lips and blew. They both listened, but
there was no reply.
Again she blew. Still silence.
The third time she drew a deep breath and blew with all her might. The
gander stayed his flight to listen, and now, away toward the right
hand, there sounded a faint halloo. The gander turned and flew in that
direction, and they had gone but a little way when the grayness before
them grew lighter. Another moment or so, and they were through the
mists and out upon the other side.
[Illustration]
But Ellen looked about her in dismay. They were in the midst of a great
barren desert. There was no tree nor house in sight, no bird nor
living thing.
Yes, there was one thing alive, for just as Ellen thought this,
something stirred and stood up from a heap of rocks nearby. It was a
lad of about twelve or thirteen. At first Ellen thought it was the son
of the gardener they had at home; it certainly looked like him. The
little girl was very fond of this lad, though people used to say he was
queer and not quite right in his mind. He often made up stories and
told them to her. She never had felt as glad to see him, though, as she
felt then. When she went closer, however, the lad did not seem to know
her, so she wondered whether it was the gardener's son after all. It
certainly looked like him.
"Was that you blowing a horn?" asked the lad.
"Yes; we were lost in the mist and wanted to get out, but we wanted to
get out on the side where the Queerbodies live."
"Well, this is it."
Ellen looked about her. "But where are they? I saw their shadows on the
mist."
The lad laughed. "Oh that's nothing. Why, I used to see their shadows
against the sky even when I was at home, but you'll have to travel far
from here before you find them. I suppose you have a compass."
"No. What for?"
"To find your way across the desert. Now I have a compass all right,
but I'm so tired I can't go a step further." The lad paused and looked
at the gander. "I don't suppose your gander could carry double?"
"No, I couldn't," answered the gander.
"Well, I didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for I could have
told you how to go. If I only had brought anything to begin with I'd
make something to ride on; but I didn't know the journey would be so
long and weary."
"Do you mean," said Ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with you
could _really_ make something to ride on?"
"Oh yes. Almost everybody, before they start out for the Queerbodies',
learns to make something out of nothing; but I was in such a hurry to
start I only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble
now."
"Haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked Ellen, for the
lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he
moved.
"Nothing that would do. It must be something that was once alive. Now
you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of
wood?"
"No. That is, nothing but a little wooden pig, and it was never alive."
"No, but the wood was when it was growing. Will you let me see it?"
As Ellen drew the toy from her pocket the boy took it from her
eagerly. His eyes sparkled. "The very thing!" he cried. "I can make a
magnificent riding-horse out of this." Holding the pig to his mouth,
the boy began to whisper magic in its wooden ear. As he did so the pig
began to grow. It grew and it grew, while Ellen stared in wonder.
When it was too large for the boy to hold in his hands he set it down
on the ground. Still he kept whispering in its ear and the pig kept on
growing, until at last it was as large as a pony.
When it was that big the lad stopped. "There!" he said to Ellen,
looking at the pig with pride, "how is that for a riding-horse?"
[Illustration]
"I think it's fine, but I shouldn't call it a riding-_horse_; I think
it's more of a riding-_pig_."
"All the same," said the lad. "Now the next thing is a bridle. When a
magic pig like this once does start going it won't stop for a word. I
suppose you haven't anything about you that would serve for a bridle."
"Nothing but this," and Ellen touched the golden chain that the dwarfs
had hung about her neck.
"That will do," cried the boy; "give it here." He seemed to feel so
sure that Ellen would lend him the chain that she did not know how to
say no, so she took it off and handed it to him.
The lad quickly arranged it as a bridle, and then before he mounted the
pig he took out his compass and made sure of the direction in which
they were to go.
"And now I'm ready," he cried; "follow me."
With that he leaped on the pig's back, and no sooner had he touched
it than away it went like the wind. Its blue legs with the pink spots
twinkled along so fast that it took all the gander knew to keep up with
them.
On and on they went; the wind whistled past Ellen's ears, and the
ground sped away beneath so fast that she grew almost dizzy.
The lad, however, did not seem to mind how fast they went. Now and then
he settled himself more comfortably on the pig's back, and now and then
he took out his compass and looked at it to make sure they were going
in the right direction.
After they had gone a long distance in this way he drew rein. "There!"
he said, "the desert is passed; but there is a greater danger than it
to come."
"What is that?"
"Look!" And the lad pointed.
Ellen looked, and then she saw that what she had thought was a stretch
of grass and rocks before them, was really an enormous green and gray
dragon that lay stretched in a rocky defile.
His neck and tail were coiled upon the ground; his wings stretched up
the rocky walls on each side of him, and their tips were like tall
green trees against the sky. Presently he turned his head and Ellen
could see his big blinking eyes, each as big as a barrel. He yawned and
his mouth was like a red cavern.
Ellen was frightened.
"Suppose he comes at us," she whispered.
[Illustration]
"Oh no, he won't pay any attention to us," the lad assured her. "That
is, unless we try to go past him, and then he'd snap us up in a
twinkling."
"Couldn't we go round?"
"No, this is the only way, right between these rocks."
"I could fly over," said the gander boldly.
The lad laughed. "Fly over! Why look at his wings. He'd catch you in a
minute. Have you ever seen a bird after a little butterfly? That's the
way he'd catch you if you tried any such tricks as that."
"Then what _are_ we to do?" asked Ellen.
"Wait," answered the lad. "They'll come to feed him after a while;
maybe in a week or so; and after he's been fed he always sleeps for ten
minutes; then we can safely go past, for nothing will waken him for
those ten minutes. You might hit him on the head with an axe and he
wouldn't stir."
"A week or so!" cried Ellen in dismay. "Why I can't wait a week or so,
I have to be home this evening before dark."
"Well, I don't see what we can do unless you have something to feed him
with."
"I have a golden egg. That's all."
"A golden egg!" cried the lad joyfully. "Why didn't you say so before?
Why, it's just the thing. Give it to me."
He took the egg from Ellen and slowly rode over toward the dragon. The
great creature watched him with its blinking eyes, and when the lad
seemed to be coming too near it raised its head and hissed warningly.
Ellen trembled, the sound was so loud and terrible, as though a dozen
engines were letting off steam all at once.
The lad, however, did not seem at all frightened. He checked the pig
and motioned to the dragon to open its mouth. Ellen had seen people
motion to the elephant at the Zoo in that same way when they wanted it
to lift up its trunk, and open its mouth to have peanuts thrown in.
The dragon seemed to understand, for after the boy had motioned once
or twice it opened its great jaws. Then the lad threw the golden egg
in, and it seemed just as small a thing for the dragon as a peanut or a
currant would to an elephant.
The dragon waited a while with its mouth still open for the boy to
throw some more in. As he did not do this, however, it closed its mouth
and began to chew the golden egg.
It chewed, and it chewed, and it chewed, and all the while it chewed it
seemed to be growing sleepier and sleepier. At last it swallowed the
egg, and then its eyes shut tight and it went fast asleep.
The boy turned and beckoned to Ellen. "Come on," he shouted at the top
of his lungs.
"Oh don't talk so loud," Ellen whispered, coming up to him as fast as
she could. "You might waken him."
The lad burst into a shout of laughter that made the little girl
tremble. "Not I," he cried. "He'll sleep for nine minutes yet. One
minute has gone already."
"Then let's hurry."
The gander flew up and on, and the boy was not slow to follow, riding
his blue and pink pig right over the dragon. Ellen was in terror lest
it should waken in spite of what the boy had said, but he did not seem
in the least afraid. He even seemed to take pleasure in making the
pig trot the full length of the dragon's tail just as children take
pleasure in walking along a railroad track.
At last they were safely over, and Ellen drew a sigh of relief.