No sooner had he reached the limit of the grounds—a narrow ravine washed out by running water that a kid might have cleared at a bound—than he was brought to a standstill by such a shiver as a brave man feels, for the most valiant has his moments of fright which he can master only by his resolute will. And, faith, there was enough to make one hesitate in what he saw.
It was a battle-front where in the darkness of a starless night glistened two hundred fixed and burning eyes; and along the ranks, from right to left, from left to right, there ran incessantly two keen slanting eyes which bespoke an extremely alert commander.
Luck of the Bean-rows knew nothing of Lavater or Gall or Spurzheim, he had never heard of phrenology, but within him he felt the natural instinct which teaches every living creature to sense an enemy from afar. At a glance he recognised in the leader of this horde of wolves the wheedling coward who had tricked him, with his talk of enlightenment and self-control, out of his last measure of beans.
“Master Wolf has lost no time in setting his lambs on my track,” said Luck of the Bean-rows; “but by what magic have they overtaken me, every one of them, if these ruffians too have not travelled by chick pea? It is possible,” he added with a sigh, “that the secrets of science are not unknown to scoundrels, and I dare not be sworn, when I think of it, that it is not they who have invented them so as to persuade simple souls the more easily to take part in their hateful schemes.”
Though the Luck was cautious in doing, he was quick in planning. He drew the hold-all hastily from his wallet, untied the second pea-casket, opened it as he had done the first, and planted the contents in the sand at point of his weeding-hook.
“Come of this what must come!” said he; “but to-night I do badly want a strong wall, were it no thicker than a cabin wall, and a close hedge if only as strong as my wattle fence, to save me from my good friends the wolves.”
In a twinkle walls arose, not cabin walls, but walls of a palace; hedges sprung up before the porches, not wattle fences, but a high lordly railing of blue steel with gilded shafts and spear-heads that never a wolf, badger or fox could have tried to clear without bruising himself or pricking his pointed muzzle. With the art of warfare at the stage it had then reached among the wolves there was nothing to be done. After testing several points the invaders retired in confusion. Thankful for this relief, the Luck returned to his pavilion. But now he passed on over marble pavements, along pillared walks lit up as if for a wedding, up staircases which seemed to ascend for ever and through galleries that were endless. He was overjoyed to come upon his pavilion of pea-blossom in the midst of a vast garden, green and blooming, which he had never seen before, and to find his bed of humming-birds’ feathers, where, I take it, he slept happier than a king—and I never exaggerate.
Next day the first thing he did was to explore the gorgeous dwelling which had sprung out of a little pea. The beauty of the most trifling things in it filled him with astonishment; for the furnishing of it was admirably in keeping with its outward appearance.