use clean spring water 8 parts
and clean fresh fruit juice 4 parts
and clean new milk 8 parts
mix all together and stir with a clean left hand
together with the blessing of a good man and
five tears of true sorrow.
splash this on the spell and it shall be broken
pour over the victim and he shall be free.”
The little wooden horse skipped for joy.
“Why! We can make it in a moment and go home directly!” he cried happily.
“Wait! Wait! Don’t go so fast!” Gobbolino warned him. “How are we to collect enough spring water and enough fruit juice, and enough milk to wash away the spell that lies all round the bottom of the mountain? And what about the good man’s blessing? And the tears of sorrow, even when we have done all that?”
“Not thewhole mountain!” said the little wooden horse. “We only need to break a small part of the circle so that we can escape through it. We had better begin directly!”
“But the blessing! The blessing!” cried Gobbolino. “There’s nobody but ourselves on the whole of this mountain, and there is no way that anybody can come in without being frizzled to bits as he crosses the spell. How can you possibly say we can make it in a minute?”
“I think,” said the little wooden horse seriously, “that we had better go and ask the bats. You must stay here, since the witch is likely to need you, and I will go down the mountain and see what I can do.”
He set off alone, while Gobbolino set the jug underneath the spring to catch as many drops as he could for the making of the spell-breaker.
The witch came in thirsty and tired, about dawn. She did not notice the absence of the little wooden horse, but drank all the water in the jug, flung her broomstick into one corner and her shoes into another, sat down on her stool and went to sleep.
14 ASKING THE BATS [Êàðòèíêà: i_028.jpg]
As HE HURRIED down the mountainside a plan was forming in the head of the little wooden horse.
If the blessing of a good man was needed, who better than the good old priest who had befriended them in the church? And who were better fitted to take a message to him than the bats? Surely they could fly high enough to avoid being frizzled by the spell?
He kept a wary eye for the witch in the sky above, but she was far away on the other side of the mountain.
The bats were busy below, and so happy to have possession of the caves with no one to chase them out that they gave the little wooden horse a warm welcome, and insisted on his coming to inspect one dwelling-place after another. They made him admit that they had the best homes in the world to live in.
“Not that we could go back to the church, even if we wished to,” the bats said, “because somebody has put a magic circle round the foot of the mountain, and we could not fly through it without being frizzled as we flew. So it is just as well we have somewhere pleasant to make our homes in. The only trouble is that some of the younger bats lagged behind, and now they can’t join us! They are still living in the rabbit holes outside, and making a great fuss about it.”
The little wooden horse could see a few batlike shapes whirling and tumbling in the moonlight where the mountain joined the plain. He walked towards them till the bats in the caves begged him to stop before he got frizzled up.
“It is very dangerous over there!” they warned him.
The bats in the rabbit holes caught sight of him and came fluttering across to see what was happening.
“Ugh! You are scorching!” they cried, retreating a little, and flopping on to the ground like so many little black goblins.
“What do you want?” they asked curiously of the little wooden horse.
[Êàðòèíêà: i_029.jpg]
“It is very dangerous over there!” they warned him
“I want to send a message to the old priest in the church. Will you take it for me?” he asked them.
The bats began to twitter.
“We don’t want to go back to the church! We want to live in the caves like the rest of our families!” they protested. “The church is draughty and dirty and everybody hates us there! The priest calls us nasty vermin! The church cleaners detest us! We don’t want to go back again!”
“Then why not come and live in the caves with the others?” the little wooden horse said cunningly.
“We will get frizzled up if we try to cross the magic circle!” said all the bats in chorus.
“It’s the old witch!” one of the younger ones said. “She drew a magic circle round the mountain last night with her broomstick. We saw her!”
“But wouldn’t you like to find a way of breaking the magic circle?” asked the little wooden horse.
“Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh yes!” chorused the young bats.
The little wooden horse began to tell them about the spell-breaker— not the whole of it, for fear they might spread the news far and wide until it came back to the witch’s ears, but vaguely, and introducing a few ingredients that would serve to put the witch off the scent.
“An owl’s feather,” he quoted. “And a white snail’s shell, and a four-leaved clover. But above all, we need the blessing of a good man.”
The bats were silent, looking at him with their bright and beady eyes. They seemed to be considering the subject. At last one piped up:
“But how shall we bring you the blessing if we get it?”
This question had indeed puzzled the little wooden horse, but now he found an answer.
“You must tell the whole story to the priest,” he said, “tell him about the spell-breaker we are about to make, and explain that his blessing is the most important part of it. You can ask him of his kindness to bless my little wooden ear, and send it back to me. Carry it very carefully between you. It isn’t very heavy! Hide it in one of your holes until sundown tomorrow, when I will come and fetch it.”
As he spoke the little wooden horse took off one of his little wooden ears, and threw it as high in the air as he was able, to the bats. It landed, just the slightest bit scorched, on the ground among them.
They picked it up gingerly with the sharp little claws at the ends of their wings, and he saw them fly away with it into the darkness of the plain.
When he got back to the cavern the witch was home and fast asleep, while Gobbolino was patiently waiting for him.
15 THE FLYING HORSE [Êàðòèíêà: i_030.jpg]
The LITTLE WOODEN HORSE and Gobbolino made up their minds to spend the next day collecting the rest of the ingredients for the spell-breaker.
They found an old pumpkin on a shelf, and this they thought would make a good receptacle for the ingredients, if they could only keep it hidden from the witch.
They pushed it into the very darkest corner of the cavern near the spring, and measured into it the first little clay potful of water, that had collected so slowly from under the dripping rock. They did not like to think how long it would take to collect seven more portions.
In the morning the witch was sleeping so soundly that they hoped she might really sleep all day as Sootica had described to them, and taking the milk jug with them they went out on to the mountainside. Since she knew they could not escape from her, the witch was quite content for them to roam among the rocks outside… so long as they came instantly to her bidding when she called them.
Only one thing perplexed them. They were expected to bring back the jug brimming with milk, so how were they going to carry the fruit juice, when they had crushed the bilberries and apples on the rocks and measured them to the right proportions?
Gobbolino brought the little clay cup with him, and suddenly the wooden horse had the good idea of using his hollow wooden body as a mixing bowl, and measuring the ingredients very carefully inside it.
The goats were willing enough to give their milk this morning, but the little wooden horse pointed out that this might go bad in the heat of the sun, and they would be wiser to collect it when they had gathered and crushed the fruit to their needs. Meanwhile, the goats showed them the way to a valley full of bilberries and wild apples, and these they picked and crushed between rocks till the juice ran out.