Rewards and Fairies

by Rudyard Kipling

  COLD IRON

  When Dan and Una had arranged to go out before breakfast, they did notremember that it was Midsummer Morning. They only wanted to see theotter which, old Hobden said, had been fishing their brook for weeks;and early morning was the time to surprise him. As they tiptoed out ofthe house into the wonderful stillness, the church clock struck five.Dan took a few steps across the dew-blobbed lawn, and looked at hisblack footprints.

  'I think we ought to be kind to our poor boots,' he said. 'They'll gethorrid wet.'

  It was their first summer in boots, and they hated them, so they tookthem off, and slung them round their necks, and paddled joyfully overthe dripping turf where the shadows lay the wrong way, like evening inthe East. The sun was well up and warm, but by the brook the last ofthe night mist still fumed off the water. They picked up the chain ofotter's footprints on the mud, and followed it from the bank, betweenthe weeds and the drenched mowing, while the birds shouted withsurprise. Then the track left the brook and became a smear, as though alog had been dragged along.

  They traced it into Three Cows meadow, over the mill-sluice to theForge, round Hobden's garden, and then up the slope till it ran outon the short turf and fern of Pook's Hill, and they heard thecock-pheasants crowing in the woods behind them.

  'No use!' said Dan, questing like a puzzled hound. 'The dew's dryingoff, and old Hobden says otters'll travel for miles.'

  'I'm sure we've travelled miles.' Una fanned herself with her hat. 'Howstill it is! It's going to be a regular roaster.' She looked down thevalley, where no chimney yet smoked.

  'Hobden's up!' Dan pointed to the open door of the Forge cottage. 'Whatd'you suppose he has for breakfast?' 'One of them. He says they eat goodall times of the year,' Una jerked her head at some stately pheasantsgoing down to the brook for a drink.

  A few steps farther on a fox broke almost under their bare feet, yapped,and trotted off.

  'Ah, Mus' Reynolds--Mus' Reynolds'--Dan was quoting from oldHobden,--'if I knowed all you knowed, I'd know something.' [See 'TheWinged Hats' in PUCK OF POOK'S HILL.]

  I say,'--Una lowered her voice--'you know that funny feeling of thingshaving happened before. I felt it when you said "Mus' Reynolds."'

  'So did I,' Dan began. 'What is it?'

  They faced each other, stammering with excitement.

  'Wait a shake! I'll remember in a minute. Wasn't it something about afox--last year? Oh, I nearly had it then!' Dan cried.

  'Be quiet!' said Una, prancing excitedly. 'There was something happenedbefore we met the fox last year. Hills! Broken Hills--the play at thetheatre--see what you see--'

  'I remember now,' Dan shouted. 'It's as plain as the nose on yourface--Pook's Hill--Puck's Hill--Puck!'

  'I remember, too,' said Una. 'And it's Midsummer Day again!' The youngfern on a knoll rustled, and Puck walked out, chewing a green-toppedrush.

  'Good Midsummer Morning to you! Here's a happy meeting,' said he. Theyshook hands all round, and asked questions.

  'You've wintered well,' he said after a while, and looked them up anddown. 'Nothing much wrong with you, seemingly.'

  'They've put us into boots,' said Una. 'Look at my feet--they're allpale white, and my toes are squidged together awfully.'

  'Yes--boots make a difference.' Puck wriggled his brown, square, hairyfoot, and cropped a dandelion flower between the big toe and the next.

  'I could do that--last year,' Dan said dismally, as he tried and failed.'And boots simply ruin one's climbing.'

  'There must be some advantage to them, I suppose,'said Puck, or folkwouldn't wear them. Shall we come this way?' They sauntered along sideby side till they reached the gate at the far end of the hillside. Herethey halted just like cattle, and let the sun warm their backs whilethey listened to the flies in the wood.

  'Little Lindens is awake,' said Una, as she hung with her chin on thetop rail. 'See the chimney smoke?'

  'Today's Thursday, isn't it?' Puck turned to look at the old pinkfarmhouse across the little valley. 'Mrs Vincey's baking day. Breadshould rise well this weather.' He yawned, and that set them bothyawning.

  The bracken about rustled and ticked and shook in every direction. Theyfelt that little crowds were stealing past.

  'Doesn't that sound like--er--the People of the Hills?'said Una.

  'It's the birds and wild things drawing up to the woods before peopleget about,' said Puck, as though he were Ridley the keeper.

  'Oh, we know that. I only said it sounded like.'

  'As I remember 'em, the People of the Hills used to make more noise.They'd settle down for the day rather like small birds settling down forthe night. But that was in the days when they carried the high hand. Oh,me! The deeds that I've had act and part in, you'd scarcely believe!'

  'I like that!' said Dan. 'After all you told us last year, too!'

  'Only, the minute you went away, you made us forget everything,' saidUna.

  Puck laughed and shook his head. 'I shall this year, too. I've given youseizin of Old England, and I've taken away your Doubt and Fear, but yourmemory and remembrance between whiles I'll keep where old Billy Trottkept his night-lines--and that's where he could draw 'em up and hide 'emat need. Does that suit?' He twinkled mischievously.

  'It's got to suit,'said Una, and laughed. 'We Can't magic back at you.'She folded her arms and leaned against the gate. 'Suppose, now, youwanted to magic me into something--an otter? Could you?'

  'Not with those boots round your neck.' 'I'll take them off.' She threwthem on the turf. Dan's followed immediately. 'Now!' she said.

  'Less than ever now you've trusted me. Where there's true faith, there'sno call for magic.' Puck's slow smile broadened all over his face.

  'But what have boots to do with it?' said Una, perching on the gate.

  'There's Cold Iron in them,' said Puck, and settled beside her. 'Nailsin the soles, I mean. It makes a difference.'

  'How?' 'Can't you feel it does? You wouldn't like to go back to barefeet again, same as last year, would you? Not really?'

  'No-o. I suppose I shouldn't--not for always. I'm growing up, you know,'said Una.

  'But you told us last year, in the Long Slip--at the theatre--that youdidn't mind Cold Iron,'said Dan.

  'I don't; but folks in housen, as the People of the Hills call them,must be ruled by Cold Iron. Folk in housen are born on the near side ofCold Iron--there's iron 'in every man's house, isn't there? They handleCold Iron every day of their lives, and their fortune's made or spoiltby Cold Iron in some shape or other. That's how it goes with Flesh andBlood, and one can't prevent it.'

  'I don't quite see. How do you mean?'said Dan.

  'It would take me some time to tell you.'

  'Oh, it's ever so long to breakfast,' said Dan. 'We looked in thelarder before we came out.' He unpocketed one big hunk of bread and Unaanother, which they shared with Puck.

  'That's Little Lindens' baking,' he said, as his white teeth sunk init. 'I know Mrs Vincey's hand.' He ate with a slow sideways thrust andgrind, just like old Hobden, and, like Hobden, hardly dropped a crumb.The sun flashed on Little Lindens' windows, and the cloudless sky grewstiller and hotter in the valley.

  'AH--Cold Iron,' he said at last to the impatient children. 'Folk inhousen, as the People of the Hills say, grow careless about Cold Iron.They'll nail the Horseshoe over the front door, and forget to put itover the back. Then, some time or other, the People of the Hills slipin, find the cradle-babe in the corner, and--'

  'Oh, I know. Steal it and leave a changeling,'Una cried.

  'No,' said Puck firmly. 'All that talk of changelings is people's excusefor their own neglect. Never believe 'em. I'd whip 'em at the cart-tailthrough three parishes if I had my way.'

  'But they don't do it now,' said Una.

  'Whip, or neglect children? Umm! Some folks and some fields never alter.But the People of the Hills didn't work any changeling tricks.They'd tiptoe in and whisper and weave round the cradle-babe in thechimney-corner--a fag-end of a charm here, or h
alf a spell there--likekettles singing; but when the babe's mind came to bud out afterwards,it would act differently from other people in its station. That's noadvantage to man or maid. So I wouldn't allow it with my folks' babieshere. I told Sir Huon so once.'

  'Who was Sir Huon?' Dan asked, and Puck turned on him in quietastonishment.

  'Sir Huon of Bordeaux--he succeeded King Oberon. He had been a boldknight once, but he was lost on the road to Babylon, a long while back.Have you ever heard "How many miles to Babylon?"?'

  'Of course,' said Dan, flushing.

  'Well, Sir Huon was young when that song was new. But about trickson mortal babies. I said to Sir Huon in the fern here, on just such amorning as this: "If you crave to act and influence on folk in housen,which I know is your desire, why don't you take some human cradle-babeby fair dealing, and bring him up among yourselves on the far sideof Cold Iron--as Oberon did in time past? Then you could make him asplendid fortune, and send him out into the world."

  '"Time past is past time," says Sir Huon. "I doubt if we could do it.For one thing, the babe would have to be taken without wronging man,woman, or child. For another, he'd have to be born on the far side ofCold Iron--in some house where no Cold Iron ever stood; and for yet thethird, he'd have to be kept from Cold Iron all his days till we lethim find his fortune. No, it's not easy," he said, and he rode off,thinking. You see, Sir Huon had been a man once. 'I happened to attendLewes Market next Woden's Day even, and watched the slaves being soldthere--same as pigs are sold at Robertsbridge Market nowadays. Only,the pigs have rings on their noses, and the slaves had rings round theirnecks.'

  'What sort of rings?' said Dan.

  'A ring of Cold Iron, four fingers wide, and a thumb thick, just likea quoit, but with a snap to it for to snap round the slave's neck. Theyused to do a big trade in slave-rings at the Forge here, and shipthem to all parts of Old England, packed in oak sawdust. But, as I wassaying, there was a farmer out of the Weald who had bought a woman witha babe in her arms, and he didn't want any encumbrances to her drivinghis beasts home for him.'

  'Beast himself!' said Una, and kicked her bare heel on the gate.

  'So he blamed the auctioneer. "It's none o' my baby," the wench puts in."I took it off a woman in our gang who died on Terrible Down yesterday.""I'll take it off to the church then," says the farmer. "MotherChurch'll make a monk of it, and we'll step along home."

  'It was dusk then. He slipped down to St Pancras' Church, and laid thebabe at the cold chapel door. I breathed on the back of his stoopingneck--and--I've heard he never could be warm at any fire afterwards. Ishould have been surprised if he could! Then I whipped up the babe, andcame flying home here like a bat to his belfry.

  'On the dewy break of morning of Thor's own day--just such a day asthis--I laid the babe outside the Hill here, and the People flocked upand wondered at the sight.

  '"You've brought him, then?" Sir Huon said, staring like any mortal man.

  '"Yes, and he's brought his mouth with him, too," I said. The babe wascrying loud for his breakfast.

  '"What is he?" says Sir Huon, when the womenfolk had drawn him under tofeed him.

  '"Full Moon and Morning Star may know," I says. "I don't. By what Icould make out of him in the moonlight, he's without brand or blemish.I'll answer for it that he's born on the far side of Cold Iron, for hewas born under a shaw on Terrible Down, and I've wronged neither man,woman, nor child in taking him, for he is the son of a dead slave-woman."

  '"All to the good, Robin," Sir Huon said. "He'll be the less anxious toleave us. Oh, we'll give him a splendid fortune, and we shall act andinfluence on folk in housen as we have always craved." His Lady came upthen, and drew him under to watch the babe's wonderful doings.' 'Who washis Lady?'said Dan. 'The Lady Esclairmonde. She had been a woman once,till she followed Sir Huon across the fern, as we say. Babies are nospecial treat to me--I've watched too many of them--so I stayed on theHill. Presently I heard hammering down at the Forge there.'Puck pointedtowards Hobden's cottage. 'It was too early for any workmen, but itpassed through my mind that the breaking day was Thor's own day. A slownorth-east wind blew up and set the oaks sawing and fretting in a way Iremembered; so I slipped over to see what I could see.'

  'And what did you see?' 'A smith forging something or other out of ColdIron. When it was finished, he weighed it in his hand (his back wastowards me), and tossed it from him a longish quoit-throw down thevalley. I saw Cold Iron flash in the sun, but I couldn't quite make outwhere it fell. That didn't trouble me. I knew it would be found sooneror later by someone.'

  'How did you know?'Dan went on.

  'Because I knew the Smith that made it,' said Puck quietly.

  'Wayland Smith?' Una suggested. [See 'Weland's Sword' in PUCK OF POOK'SHILL.]

  'No. I should have passed the time o' day with Wayland Smith, of course.This other was different. So'--Puck made a queer crescent in the airwith his finger--'I counted the blades of grass under my nose till thewind dropped and he had gone--he and his Hammer.'

  'Was it Thor then?' Una murmured under her breath.

  'Who else? It was Thor's own day.' Puck repeated the sign. 'I didn'ttell Sir Huon or his Lady what I'd seen. Borrow trouble for yourself ifthat's your nature, but don't lend it to your neighbours. Moreover,I might have been mistaken about the Smith's work. He might have beenmaking things for mere amusement, though it wasn't like him, or he mighthave thrown away an old piece of made iron. One can never be sure. So Iheld my tongue and enjoyed the babe. He was a wonderful child--and thePeople of the Hills were so set on him, they wouldn't have believed me.He took to me wonderfully. As soon as he could walk he'd putter forthwith me all about my Hill here. Fern makes soft falling! He knew whenday broke on earth above, for he'd thump, thump, thump, like an oldbuck-rabbit in a bury, and I'd hear him say "Opy!" till some one whoknew the Charm let him out, and then it would be "Robin! Robin!" allround Robin Hood's barn, as we say, till he'd found me.'

  'The dear!' said Una. 'I'd like to have seen him!' 'Yes, he was a boy.And when it came to learning his words--spells and such-like--he'd siton the Hill in the long shadows, worrying out bits of charms to try onpassersby. And when the bird flew to him, or the tree bowed to him forpure love's sake (like everything else on my Hill), he'd shout, "Robin!Look--see! Look, see, Robin!" and sputter out some spell or other thatthey had taught him, all wrong end first, till I hadn't the heart totell him it was his own dear self and not the words that worked thewonder. When he got more abreast of his words, and could cast spells forsure, as we say, he took more and more notice of things and people inthe world. People, of course, always drew him, for he was mortal allthrough.

  'Seeing that he was free to move among folk in housen, under or overCold Iron, I used to take him along with me, night-walking, where hecould watch folk, and I could keep him from touching Cold Iron. Thatwasn't so difficult as it sounds, because there are plenty of thingsbesides Cold Iron in housen to catch a boy's fancy. He was a handful,though! I shan't forget when I took him to Little Lindens--his firstnight under a roof. The smell of the rushlights and the bacon on thebeams--they were stuffing a feather-bed too, and it was a drizzling warmnight--got into his head. Before I could stop him--we were hiding inthe bakehouse--he'd whipped up a storm of wildfire, with flashlightsand voices, which sent the folk shrieking into the garden, and a girloverset a hive there, and--of course he didn't know till then suchthings could touch him--he got badly stung, and came home with his facelooking like kidney potatoes! 'You can imagine how angry Sir Huon andLady Esclairmonde were with poor Robin! They said the Boy was never tobe trusted with me night-walking any more--and he took about as muchnotice of their order as he did of the bee-stings. Night after night,as soon as it was dark, I'd pick up his whistle in the wet fern, andoff we'd flit together among folk in housen till break of day--he askingquestions, and I answering according to my knowledge. Then we fell intomischief again!'Puck shook till the gate rattled.

  'We came across a man up at Brightling who was beating
his wife witha bat in the garden. I was just going to toss the man over his ownwoodlump when the Boy jumped the hedge and ran at him. Of course thewoman took her husband's part, and while the man beat him, the womanscratted his face. It wasn't till I danced among the cabbages likeBrightling Beacon all ablaze that they gave up and ran indoors. TheBoy's fine green-and-gold clothes were torn all to pieces, and he hadbeen welted in twenty places with the man's bat, and scratted by thewoman's nails to pieces. He looked like a Robertsbridge hopper on aMonday morning.

  '"Robin," said he, while I was trying to clean him down with a bunch ofhay, "I don't quite understand folk in housen. I went to help that oldwoman, and she hit me, Robin!"

  '"What else did you expect?" I said. "That was the one time when youmight have worked one of your charms, instead of running into threetimes your weight."

  '"I didn't think," he says. "But I caught the man one on the head thatwas as good as any charm. Did you see it work, Robin?"

  '"Mind your nose," I said. "Bleed it on a dockleaf--not your sleeve, forpity's sake." I knew what the Lady Esclairmonde would say.

  'He didn't care. He was as happy as a gipsy with a stolen pony, and thefront part of his gold coat, all blood and grass stains, looked likeancient sacrifices.

  'Of course the People of the Hills laid the blame on me. The Boy coulddo nothing wrong, in their eyes.

  '"You are bringing him up to act and influence on folk in housen, whenyou're ready to let him go," I said. "Now he's begun to do it, why doyou cry shame on me? That's no shame. It's his nature drawing him to hiskind."

  '"But we don't want him to begin that way," the Lady Esclairmondesaid. "We intend a splendid fortune for him--not your flitter-by-night,hedge-jumping, gipsy-work."

  '"I don't blame you, Robin," says Sir Huon, "but I do think you mightlook after the Boy more closely."

  '"I've kept him away from Cold Iron these sixteen years," I said. "Youknow as well as I do, the first time he touches Cold Iron he'll findhis own fortune, in spite of everything you intend for him. You owe mesomething for that."

  'Sir Huon, having been a man, was going to allow me the right of it, butthe Lady Esclairmonde, being the Mother of all Mothers, over-persuadedhim.

  '"We're very grateful," Sir Huon said, "but we think that just for thepresent you are about too much with him on the Hill."

  '"Though you have said it," I said, "I will give you a second chance."I did not like being called to account for my doings on my own Hill. Iwouldn't have stood it even that far except I loved the Boy.

  '"No! No!" says the Lady Esclairmonde. "He's never any trouble when he'sleft to me and himself. It's your fault."

  '"You have said it," I answered. "Hear me! From now on till the Boy hasfound his fortune, whatever that may be, I vow to you all on my Hill, byOak, and Ash, and Thorn, and by the Hammer of Asa Thor"--again Puck madethat curious double-cut in the air--'"that you may leave me out ofall your counts and reckonings." Then I went out'--he snapped hisfingers--'like the puff of a candle, and though they called and cried,they made nothing by it. I didn't promise not to keep an eye on the Boy,though. I watched him close--close--close!

  'When he found what his people had forced me to do, he gave them a pieceof his mind, but they all kissed and cried round him, and being onlya boy, he came over to their way of thinking (I don't blame him), andcalled himself unkind and ungrateful; and it all ended in fresh showsand plays, and magics to distract him from folk in housen. Dear heartalive! How he used to call and call on me, and I couldn't answer, oreven let him know that I was near!'

  'Not even once?' said Una. 'If he was very lonely?' 'No, he couldn't,'said Dan, who had been thinking. 'Didn't you swear by the Hammer of Thorthat you wouldn't, Puck?'

  'By that Hammer!' was the deep rumbled reply. Then he came back to hissoft speaking voice. 'And the Boy was lonely, when he couldn't see meany more. He began to try to learn all learning (he had good teachers),but I saw him lift his eyes from the big black books towards folk inhousen all the time. He studied song-making (good teachers he had too!),but he sang those songs with his back toward the Hill, and his facetoward folk. I know! I have sat and grieved over him grieving within arabbit's jump of him. Then he studied the High, Low, and Middle Magic.He had promised the Lady Esclairmonde he would never go near folk inhousen; so he had to make shows and shadows for his mind to chew on.''What sort of shows?' said Dan.

  'Just boy's Magic as we say. I'll show you some, some time. It pleasedhim for the while, and it didn't hurt any one in particular except a fewmen coming home late from the taverns. But I knew what it was a sign of,and I followed him like a weasel follows a rabbit. As good a boy as everlived! I've seen him with Sir Huon and the Lady Esclairmonde steppingjust as they stepped to avoid the track of Cold Iron in a furrow, orwalking wide of some old ash-tot because a man had left his swop-hook orspade there; and all his heart aching to go straightforward among folkin housen all the time. Oh, a good boy! They always intended a finefortune for him--but they could never find it in their heart to let himbegin. I've heard that many warned them, but they wouldn't be warned. Soit happened as it happened.

  'One hot night I saw the Boy roving about here wrapped in his flamingdiscontents. There was flash on flash against the clouds, and rush onrush of shadows down the valley till the shaws were full of his houndsgiving tongue, and the woodways were packed with his knights in armourriding down into the water-mists--all his own Magic, of course. Behindthem you could see great castles lifting slow and splendid on archesof moonshine, with maidens waving their hands at the windows, which allturned into roaring rivers; and then would come the darkness of hisown young heart wiping out the whole slateful. But boy's Magic doesn'ttrouble me--or Merlin's either for that matter. I followed the Boy bythe flashes and the whirling wildfire of his discontent, and oh, but Igrieved for him! Oh, but I grieved for him! He pounded back andforth like a bullock in a strange pasture--sometimes alone--sometimeswaist-deep among his shadow-hounds--sometimes leading his shadow-knightson a hawk-winged horse to rescue his shadow-girls. I never guessed hehad such Magic at his command; but it's often that way with boys.

  'Just when the owl comes home for the second time, I saw Sir Huon andthe Lady ride down my Hill, where there's not much Magic allowed exceptmine. They were very pleased at the Boy's Magic--the valley flared withit--and I heard them settling his splendid fortune when they shouldfind it in their hearts to let him go to act and influence among folk inhousen. Sir Huon was for making him a great King somewhere or other, andthe Lady was for making him a marvellous wise man whom all should praisefor his skill and kindness. She was very kind-hearted.

  'Of a sudden we saw the flashes of his discontents turned back on theclouds, and his shadow-hounds stopped baying.

  '"There's Magic fighting Magic over yonder," the Lady Esclairmondecried, reigning up. "Who is against him?"

  'I could have told her, but I did not count it any of my business tospeak of Asa Thor's comings and goings.

  'How did you know?'said Una.

  'A slow North-East wind blew up, sawing and fretting through the oaks ina way I remembered. The wildfire roared up, one last time in one sheet,and snuffed out like a rushlight, and a bucketful of stinging hail fell.We heard the Boy walking in the Long Slip--where I first met you.

  '"Here, oh, come here!" said the Lady Esclairmonde, and stretched outher arms in the dark.

  'He was coming slowly, but he stumbled in the footpath, being, ofcourse, mortal man.

  '"Why, what's this?" he said to himself. We three heard him.

  '"Hold, lad, hold! 'Ware Cold Iron!" said Sir Huon, and they two sweptdown like nightjars, crying as they rode.

  'I ran at their stirrups, but it was too late. We felt that the Boyhad touched Cold Iron somewhere in the dark, for the Horses of the Hillshied off, and whipped round, snorting.

  'Then I judged it was time for me to show myself in my own shape; so Idid.

  '"Whatever it is," I said, "he has taken hold of it. Now we must findout whatever it is
that he has taken hold of, for that will be hisfortune."

  '"Come here, Robin," the Boy shouted, as soon as he heard my voice. "Idon't know what I've hold of."

  '"It is in your hands," I called back. "Tell us if it is hard and cold,with jewels atop. For that will be a King's Sceptre."

  '"Not by a furrow-long," he said, and stooped and tugged in the dark.We heard him. '"Has it a handle and two cutting edges?" I called. "Forthat'll be a Knight's Sword."

  '"No, it hasn't," he says. "It's neither ploughshare, whittle, hook,nor crook, nor aught I've yet seen men handle." By this time he wasscratting in the dirt to prise it up.

  '"Whatever it is, you know who put it there, Robin," said Sir Huon tome, "or you would not ask those questions. You should have told me assoon as you knew."

  '"What could you or I have done against the Smith that made it and laidit for him to find?" I said, and I whispered Sir Huon what I had seen atthe Forge on Thor's Day, when the babe was first brought to the Hill.

  '"Oh, good-bye, our dreams!" said Sir Huon. "It's neither sceptre,sword, nor plough! Maybe yet it's a bookful of learning, bound with ironclasps. There's a chance for a splendid fortune in that sometimes."

  'But we knew we were only speaking to comfort ourselves, and the LadyEsclairmonde, having been a woman, said so.

  '"Thur aie! Thor help us!" the Boy called. "It is round, without end,Cold Iron, four fingers wide and a thumb thick, and there is writing onthe breadth of it."

  '"Read the writing if you have the learning," I called. The darkness hadlifted by then, and the owl was out over the fern again.

  'He called back, reading the runes on the iron:

  "Few can see Further forth Than when the child Meets the Cold Iron."

  And there he stood, in clear starlight, with a new, heavy, shiningslave-ring round his proud neck.

  '"Is this how it goes?" he asked, while the Lady Esclairmonde cried.

  '"That is how it goes," I said. He hadn't snapped the catch home yet,though.

  '"What fortune does it mean for him?" said Sir Huon, while the Boyfingered the ring. "You who walk under Cold Iron, you must tell us andteach us."

  '"Tell I can, but teach I cannot," I said. "The virtue of the Ring isonly that he must go among folk in housen henceforward, doing what theywant done, or what he knows they need, all Old England over. Never willhe be his own master, nor yet ever any man's. He will get half he gives,and give twice what he gets, till his life's last breath; and if he laysaside his load before he draws that last breath, all his work will gofor naught."

  '"Oh, cruel, wicked Thor!" cried the Lady Esclairmonde. "Ah, look see,all of you! The catch is still open! He hasn't locked it. He can stilltake it off. He can still come back. Come back!" She went as near asshe dared, but she could not lay hands on Cold Iron. The Boy could havetaken it off, yes. We waited to see if he would, but he put up his hand,and the snap locked home.

  '"What else could I have done?" said he.

  '"Surely, then, you will do," I said. "Morning's coming, and if youthree have any farewells to make, make them now, for, after sunrise,Cold Iron must be your master." 'So the three sat down, cheek by wetcheek, telling over their farewells till morning light. As good a boy asever lived, he was.'

  'And what happened to him?' asked Dan.

  'When morning came, Cold Iron was master of him and his fortune, andhe went to work among folk in housen. Presently he came across a maidlike-minded with himself, and they were wedded, and had bushels ofchildren, as the saying is. Perhaps you'll meet some of his breed, thisyear.'

  'Thank you,' said Una. 'But what did the poor Lady Esclairmonde do?'

  'What can you do when Asa Thor lays the Cold Iron in a lad's path? Sheand Sir Huon were comforted to think they had given the Boy good storeof learning to act and influence on folk in housen. For he was a goodboy! Isn't it getting on for breakfast-time? I'll walk with you apiece.'

  When they were well in the centre of the bone-dry fern, Dan nudged Una,who stopped and put on a boot as quickly as she could. 'Now,' she said,'you can't get any Oak, Ash, and Thorn leaves from here, and'--shebalanced wildly on one leg--'I'm standing on Cold Iron. What'll you doif we don't go away?'

  'E-eh? Of all mortal impudence!'said Puck, as Dan, also in one boot,grabbed his sister's hand to steady himself. He walked round them,shaking with delight. 'You think I can only work with a handful of deadleaves? This comes of taking away your Doubt and Fear! I'll show you!'

  A minute later they charged into old Hobden at his simple breakfast ofcold roast pheasant, shouting that there was a wasps' nest in the fernwhich they had nearly stepped on, and asking him to come and smoke itout. 'It's too early for wops-nests, an' I don't go diggin' in the Hill,not for shillin's,' said the old man placidly. 'You've a thorn in yourfoot, Miss Una. Sit down, and put on your t'other boot. You're too oldto be caperin' barefoot on an empty stomach. Stay it with this chickeno' mine.'