"It's straight ahead until you get there, and then you stop," replied Tom Tiddler.
George thought this rather rude and not funny, so he turned and walked away a short distance. He felt as if he would like to cry, and began to wish he were at home again. Something cold touched his hand, and there was Alexander looking up at him, just in the old way, as if he were saying: "I'm here; don't mind what the others say. I'm always your friend."
George stooped down and patted him. "Dear old Alexander! Let us go back now. I don't like Tom Tiddler at all."
Alexander wagged his tail, but said never a word.
There was a sudden whirr—and there was the witch flying away far above their heads. George was rather glad, for he felt that he wanted only Alexander and nobody else.
Tom Tiddler came up to him again, and said with a bow: "May I show you the way, little master? You mustn't mind their laughter; you will understand better by and by. So many come here, following their fortunes like you, and don't even know what their fortunes are."
With another bow he turned and led the way up a rocky path which seemed to lead right into the heart of the mountains.
George followed him, carrying his bag. How heavy it was and how it hurt his shoulder! He got hot and then hotter, and at last, speaking half to himself, he said: "It is too heavy for me to carry.... I can't carry it any farther.... I'd sooner have no fortune at all if it's as difficult to take away as this is.... Oh, I wish it were gone!" Then, all in a moment, the sack no longer seemed to weigh anything. It might have been empty.
He felt so pleased and happy that he raced along after Tom Tiddler, but he could never quite catch him up, for the little man skipped along, jumping from rock to rock like a young goat. At last he gave a bigger jump than ever, and—hey presto!—like a Jack-in-the-box he was gone.