class="x-ebookmaker-pageno" title="30"/> up his ax and was about to go back to his father when the goblin cried lamentably: “Oh, let me out! Do let me out.”

“No, not a second time,” the scholar said. “I shall not give you a chance to take my life again in a hurry, after I have got you safe.”

“Free me,” the goblin pleaded, “and I will give you wealth that will last you your life-time.”

“No, no, you will only deceive me!” the scholar declared.

“You are disregarding your own best interests,” the goblin said. “Instead of harming you I will reward you richly.”

“Well, I will hazard letting him out,” the scholar thought, “for he may after all keep his word.”

Then he addressed the goblin, saying: “I will release you. See to it that you do as you have promised.”

So he removed the stopper and the goblin jumped out and soon became as big as before. “Now you shall have your reward,” the monster said, and he reached the scholar a little piece of rag. “Apply that to a wound, and the wound will at once heal,” he explained; “or touch it to iron and the iron will change to silver.”

“I will try it,” the scholar responded, and he went to the oak tree and slashed off a piece of bark with his ax. Then he touched the place with the rag, and immediately the wound closed up as if the bark had never been gashed at all.

“That is quite satisfactory,” the scholar said. “Now we can separate.”

“I thank you for releasing me,” the goblin remarked as he turned away.

“And I thank you heartily for your present,” the scholar said.

IV—A SCHOLAR’S FORTUNE

After parting from the goblin, the young man went back to his father, who asked:

“Where have you been roaming so long? You have neglected your work. I was quite certain you would do nothing of this kind well.”

“Be contented,” was the son’s response, “I will make up the lost time. Watch me while I cut down this tree at one blow.”

He rubbed his ax with the magic rag, and gave the tree a powerful blow, but because the ax-head had been changed into silver the edge turned over.

“Ah, Father!” the son exclaimed, “do you see how poor an ax you have given me?”

“What have you done?” the father cried. “That ax was borrowed, and you have ruined it. I must pay for it, but I know not how I shall do so.”

“Don’t be troubled,” the son said. “I will soon pay for the ax.”

“Why, you simpleton! how will you do that?” his father retorted. “You have nothing but what I give you. Some student nonsense is stuck in your head. Of wood-cutting you know nothing.”

“Well, Father,” the son said, “I can work no more today now that my ax is spoiled. Let us make a holiday of the few hours that remain before sunset.”

“Eh, what?” his father cried, “do you think I can keep my hands in my pockets as you do? You can go home, but I must keep on with the chopping.”

“No,” the son objected, “you must come, too, for this is the first time I have been in the forest, and I do not know the way out.”

At last he persuaded his father to accompany him. After they reached home the son took the damaged ax to a goldsmith in a neighboring town. “This ax-head is silver,” the scholar told him. “I want to sell it.”

The goldsmith tested it to make sure of the quality of the metal, weighed it, and said, “Your ax is worth one hundred dollars, but I have not so much money in the shop.”

“Give me what you have,” the scholar requested, “and I will trust you for the rest.”

So the goldsmith gave him eighty dollars, and the scholar tramped back home. “Father,”