Mr. Wicker stood with his hands behind his back, the firelight outlining his black clothes and neat dark head.
"Yes," he said, in a matter-of-fact voice, "Quite so. Now climb out and I will show you some of the other shapes of which it is capable. A ladder," Mr. Wicker remarked as Chris rejoined him, "is almost too simple. We can do that at any time."
Grasping the end of one oar, with movements too fast for Chris's eyes to follow, in an instant the boat was a rope again, coiled over Mr. Wicker's arm.
"Now!" said Mr. Wicker, and his eyes twinkled with mischief. The rope flew out again, but this time took a strange outline—the outline of an elephant.
"It will have to be a small elephant," murmured Mr. Wicker, his hands flying, "because of the size of the room."
The elephant, like the boat, took shape, the final ends of the rope hanging down at its trunk and tail. After the elephant came a horse, an eagle, and a dolphin, and Chris's admiration and zest to learn the secrets of the rope grew with every change of shape.
"Very well," ended Mr. Wicker, "you shall learn." And placing his hands over Chris's while the boy held the rope, he began slowly to show him the magic twists and turns.