II.
One fine day, about this time, when everybody all over the land was talking of this wonderful affair, and everybody's head was full of it, our three brothers began to ask each other why, since their father wished them to do so, they shouldn't go out into the world to seek their fortune. They didn't hope for any great success, nor did they expect the hand of the princess, or the half of the kingdom. All they wished for was a good place and a kind master; and who could say they wouldn't find them both somewhere at the court? So they decided to try their luck; and after receiving the blessing of their good father, they started off, with stout hearts, on their way to the king's palace.
Whilst the two older brothers were slowly trudging along, Thumbling scampered up and down the road like a wild thing, running backwards and forwards like a sportive dog, spying here, there, and everywhere, and noticing everything that was to be noticed. Nothing was too small for his sharp little eyes, and he kept constantly stopping his brothers to ask the why and the wherefore of everything: why the bees dived into the fragrant flower-cups? why the swallows skimmed along the rivers? why the butterflies zigzagged capriciously along the fields? To all these questions Peter only answered with a burst of stupid laughter; while the surly Paul shrugged his shoulders, and crossly bade the little Thumbling hold his tongue, telling him he was an inquisitive little simpleton.
As they were going along, they came to a dense forest of pines, that covered the crest of a mountain, on the top of which they heard the sound of a woodman's axe, and the crackling of branches as they fell to the ground.
“That is a very strange thing,” said Thumbling, “to be cutting trees on the top of a mountain like this.”
“It would astonish me very much to find that you were not astonished at everything,” answered Peter, in a sour tone; “everything is wonderful to simpletons. I suppose you never heard of woodcutters.”
“It's all the same to me what you say,” said Thumbling; “but I am going to see what is going on up there.”
“Be off with you!” cried Paul; “tire yourself all out, and that will be a good lesson to you, for wanting to know more than your big brothers.”
Thumbling didn't trouble himself much with what his big brothers said, but started for the place whence the noise seemed to come, and, after much hard climbing and running, he arrived at the top of the mountain. And what do you suppose he found there? You would never guess, and so I will tell you. A MAGIC AXE, that all by itself was hacking away at one of the tallest trees on the mountain.
“Good morning, Mistress Axe,” cried Thumbling. “Doesn't it tire you to be chopping all alone there at that old tree?”
“Many long years I have been waiting for you, my son,” replied the axe.
“Very well, ma'am, here I am!” said Thumbling; and without being astonished at anything, he seized the axe, put it in the stout leather bag he carried over his shoulder, and gayly descended to overtake his brothers.
“What marvel did Master Moonstruck see up there?” asked Paul, looking at Thumbling with a very scornful air.
“It was an axe that we heard,” answered Thumbling, slyly.
“I could have told you so beforehand,” said Peter; “and here you are now, all tired out, for nothing. You had better stay with us another time.”
A little farther along, they came to a place where the road was hollowed with extreme difficulty out of a mass of solid rock; and here, in the distance, the brothers heard a sharp noise, like that of iron striking against stone.
“It is very wonderful that anybody should be hammering away at rocks away up there!” remarked Thumbling.
“Truly,” said Paul, “you must have been fledged yesterday! Didn't you ever hear a woodpecker pecking at the trunk of an old tree?”
“He is right,” added Peter, laughing; “it must be a woodpecker. Stay with us, you foolish fellow.”
“It's all the same to me,” answered Thumbling; “but I am very curious to see what is going on up there.” So he began to climb the rocks on his hands and knees, while his two brothers trudged along, making as much fun of him as possible.
When he got up to the top of the rock, which was only after a deal of hard work, what do you suppose he found there? A MAGIC PICKAXE, that, all alone by itself, was digging at the hard stone as if it were soft clay; and digging so well, that at every blow it went down more than a foot in the rock.
“Good morning, Mistress Pickaxe,” said Thumbling. “Doesn't it tire you to be delving alone there, hollowing away at that old rock?”
“Many long years I have been waiting for you, my son,” answered the pickaxe.
“Very well, ma'am! here I am,” replied Thumbling; and, without being astonished at anything, he seized the pick, took it off its handle, put the two pieces in the stout leather bag he carried over his shoulder, and gayly descended to overtake his brothers.
“What miracle did his Worship see this time?” asked Paul, in a surly tone.
“It was a pickaxe that we heard,” answered Thumbling, slyly; and he plodded along, without any more words.
A little farther along, they came to a brook. The water was clear and fresh, and, as the travellers were thirsty, they all stopped to drink out of the hollows of their hands.
“It is very wonderful,” said Thumbling, “that there should be so much water in this little valley. I should like to see where this brook starts from.”
But to this the only answer was from Paul, who said gruffly to his brother, “We shall soon see this inquisitive fellow climbing up to Heaven, and asking questions of the angels themselves.”
“Very well!” says Thumbling; “it's all the same; and I am very curious to see where all this water comes from.”
So saying, he began to follow up the streamlet, in spite of the jeers and scoldings of his brothers. And lo and behold! the farther he went, smaller and smaller grew the brook, and less and less the quantity of water. And when he came to the end, what do you think he found? A simple nut-shell, from the bottom of which a tiny stream of water burst out and sparkled in the sun.
“Good morning, Mistress Spring,” cried Thumbling. “Doesn't it tire you to be gushing away there all alone in your little corner?”
“Many long years I have been waiting for you, my son,” replied the spring.
“Very well, ma'am! here I am,” said Thumbling; and without being astonished at anything, he seized the nut-shell, plugged it up with moss, so that the water shouldn't run out, put it in the stout leather bag he carried over his shoulder, and gayly descended to overtake his brothers.
“Do you know now where the brook starts from?” shouted Peter, as soon as he saw him.
“Yes, brother Peter,” replied Thumbling; “it came out of a little hole.”
“This boy is too bright to live,” grumbled Peter.
But Thumbling quietly said to himself, and rubbed his hands meanwhile, “I have seen what I wanted to see, and I know what I wanted to know; let those laugh who wish.”