Chapter XVII

It was well that Vance had been warned by the Crooked Man not to speak first, as he certainly would have done so, for in truth the Crushed Strawberry Wizard did not appear to be at all a talkative sort of man. He did indeed look up as Vance came near and put down his box; but he said nothing, and closing his eyes, went on making tatting in silence.

Vance stood on one foot awhile, and then on the other. He counted the white doves upon the peaked roof, and watched a small old lady who was gathering herbs in the tiny garden beside the house; but he was very careful not to speak. At last his patience was rewarded. The Wizard opened his eyes and spoke.

"The reason," he said very slowly, "that a sausage cannot walk is that it has no legs. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Oh, certainly!" replied the Prince, politely.

He was extremely anxious not to say anything to make the Wizard angry.

"Well, then," returned the Wizard, "don't pretend that you can't, that's all."

For some time longer the Wizard made tatting in silence; then once again he spoke.

"The reason," he said gravely, "that a horse has no trunk is because it is not an elephant. Can you see the philosophy of that?"

"Yes, your--" "Majesty," the Prince was about to say, in his eagerness to be polite; but he changed his mind just in time, and said courteously, "Yes, your Wizardship."

This appeared to please the Wizard, for he bent his head three times and invited the Prince in to tea. The table was already spread; and seated about it were the old lady Vance had seen herb-gathering, and nine black cats with green eyes, peaked caps, and nice white napkins under their chins. The Wizard placed a chair for the Prince.

"This is my wife," he said, waving his hand toward the tiny old lady. "She is a professional witch. She eats nothing but grasshoppers gathered when the moon is full."

The Wizard here lowered his voice mysteriously and bent toward Vance.

"Economical," he said, "very economical. She hardly costs me a groat a year, except for her high-heeled shoes; those come dear, but she must have them, being a professional witch, you know. Now, as to these cats, how many lives should you guess they had among them, eh?"

"I have heard," replied the Prince, "that every cat has nine lives, so I should think that there must be eighty-one lives here."

"You'd be wrong, then," said the Wizard, "for some of these cats have only one or two lives left. I keep 'em, you understand, so that when folks lose their lives, all they have to do is to come to me and I can sell them new ones from the cats."

"Do the cats like it?" asked Vance.

"They don't mind," replied the Wizard. "Anyhow, they know they've all got to come to it. When the last life is gone, a cat turns into a wind; you've heard them of a March night, yowling about the castle turrets."

"The moon," said the witch, speaking for the first time, "being probably if not otherwise added to this whose salt, magnifying."

"You are right, my dear," said the Wizard, "as you always are. The boy _is_ better off in bed."

Upon this the Wizard left the table and led Vance to a neat little bed-chamber, where he bade him good-night. The Prince, having opened his box to give his family some air, lay down and enjoyed the first night of slumber in a bed which he had known since leaving the palace.

The next morning, after breakfasting with the Wizard, the witch, and the cats, the Prince was called into the garden and given a spade.

"Just dig awhile, as we talk," said the Wizard, seating himself, "and see if you can find any Greek roots. My wife wants some for a philter she is making."

"Tintypes," observed the witch, "catnip promulgating canticles concerning emoluments, producing."

Vance stared; but the Wizard, who was evidently accustomed to this odd sort of talk, answered quietly:

"You are right, as usual, my dear. He must be very careful not to cut them in two with his spade."

The Prince took the spade and began to dig, though not very hopefully. The truth was, he had never been at all successful in finding Greek roots himself; and besides he was longing to ask the Wizard for the charm which should restore his family. However, he dug away bravely and said nothing till the Wizard spoke to him.

"I suppose," said the Wizard, at length, "that, as to your family, you know the rule for simple reduction, don't you?"

"Yes," said the Prince, doubtfully, "I do if that page wasn't torn out of my book. However, I could learn it."

"Learn it, then," said the Wizard; "and when you have learned it, use it."

"But, if you please," ventured the Prince, humbly, "they are already reduced to the lowest terms. I don't wish to reduce them any more."

"All right, then," replied the Wizard, crossly; for the truth was, that, having a variety of affairs on his mind that day, he had forgotten that Vance's Court were pygmies, and was thinking they were giants, and a wizard never likes to find himself mistaken. "All right, then; don't reduce them. I'm sure I don't care what you do."

"Oh, don't say that!" begged the Prince, with tears in his eyes. "Please don't act as if you didn't care! Oh, your Wizardship, I've come so far to find you, and I've met such unpleasant people, and such horrible things have happened to me on the way, pray do not refuse to help me now that I have found you at last!"

"Well, then," returned the Wizard, "be polite, and do as I tell you. Do you find any roots, by the by?"

"Not one," said the Prince, leaning on his spade in despair.

"That's bad," said the Wizard. "I would sell the charm to you for one Greek root."

"Oh," cried the Prince, "my tutor has some, I know. His head used to be full of them; and unless they have grown so small that he has lost them, I'll be bound he has them still."

Upon this the Prince hastened to open his box, and, to his great delight, succeeded in obtaining from his tutor several Greek roots which, though small, were of good shape and in fair condition. These being given to the Wizard, and by him handed to the witch, the Prince waited eagerly for the charm to be told him.

But the Wizard had apparently no mind to speak. He whistled a few moments, and then, drawing a string from his pocket, began to make a cat's-cradle over his long crushed-strawberry fingers.

"I've sent a message by telegraph to the court cat," he announced. "Go through that white gateway, and you'll come to the high-road. It is the southern boundary of Jolliland. Your way is straight. By sunset you will be at the castle. The cat knows all."