“Our friend is in danger or trouble,” said the Doctor’s son. “Let us lose no time in searching for him; even now we may be too late to save him.” The others were alarmed at the ill omen and were eager to start at once, but the Magician’s son detained them.
“One moment!” said he. “By my magic art I can learn exactly where our friend is, and then we can go straight to him.” Bidding the others sit down and [[90]]wait, he drew a circle on the ground and, placing himself in the center of it, began to recite all manner of incantations and to draw figures and signs in the air. After a while he erased the circle and announced to his friends that he knew the exact whereabouts of the Prince’s son at that moment. “But we must hurry,” he said, “for he is in great danger and will surely die unless we rescue him.”
So the five set out at a smart pace and traveled all that night without pause or rest. By early morning they had reached the well wherein the Prince’s son was imprisoned.
“How shall we move away the rock?” said they in despair, seeing the huge boulder completely covering the mouth of the well.
“I will move it!” said the Blacksmith’s son, and taking the heavy iron hammer which he always carried in his belt, he fell to work upon the rock, knocking great [[91]]chunks out of it until it was all broken to pieces.
When the mouth of the well had thus been opened, they hastily lowered the Doctor’s son, who found the son of the Prince lying there quite white and still and nigh unto death.
“It is well they chose me to fetch him up!” he muttered as he drew forth his bag of medicines. Taking a small flask of red fluid, he poured the contents of it down the throat of his unconscious friend, who soon began to stir and then to sit up.
With great difficulty the two were hauled up to the mouth of the well, and when they were once safely out of it, the friends all embraced with heartfelt joy and affection. Then the Prince’s son told the tale of his adventure and its sorry ending, and the other five were full of compassion for him and indignation against the wicked Khan.
“I have a plan!” suddenly spoke up the Wood-carver’s son. “By my art I can [[92]]fashion a great wooden bird, large enough to carry a man, and I will fit it with wings, hinges and springs so that it will fly through the air.”
“And I,” cried the Painter’s son, catching the idea at once, “will paint and adorn it with marvellously beautiful colors, so that it will look like a Bird of Paradise.”