“Well, there!” said his mother, complacent again. “Go if you want to, and see what there is to see.” And she began slicing up muffins the size of small haystacks to make sandwiches for his journey.
So Benevaldo started south to see the men’s country. At every step the ground grew greener, the sun grew warmer, the sky grew bluer. And it was all fun for Benevaldo. He swung along over mountains and plains, whistling like the wind; and sprang over rivers as carelessly as if they were brooks.
Little by little, the look of the land changed. There were no more long forests to kick his way through. There were no more wide, bare plains. The whole country was marked off into small green and brown squares like a plaid; and across it went tiny paths, this way and that.
Ahead on one of the paths something moved. It was a little creature coming toward him, stepping along on its two tiny legs as he did on his big ones. Benevaldo gasped with the surprise of it. “A man!” he said to himself. “A man!” And he stood motionless, astride the path, to let the pigmy pass. “If I move, I shall frighten him,” thought he.
But the man walked under him without a quiver or so much as a glance. It was quite plain that he had not seen Benevaldo at all.
The young giant went on, whistling a little ruefully. Another man passed him, and another,—two or three driving in a tiny cart behind a little animal. Presently they came so thick and fast that Benevaldo had to keep skipping aside to avoid stepping on them. The whole country was dotted with their absurd houses; and he saw now that the green and brown squares must be their fields, and the tiny paths their highways.
There was a quick snort down near his feet. A hot, hissing monster like a black, jointed snake swept by his toes. As he started back, dazed with the rush of it, another came whizzing after. Something gleamed in their wake. Benevaldo knelt down and felt of it. The creatures’ shining path was a cold, two-ridged track.
He walked more carefully than before, stepping over the roads and looking out for the slippery tracks. The houses came in clusters now. The small clusters he could jump over, but the big ones he had to go around, or risk wedging his feet in the narrow streets. There was no longer any fun in walking. No sooner had he taken half a dozen good free steps than he came tripping against one of these towns. Even in the bare spots the roads were buzzing with tiny wagons, darting about by themselves like overgrown beetles.
Benevaldo, looking down from his height on all the confusion, grew quite giddy. It was sunset time, and he had been walking all day without stopping. He pulled out a sandwich from his lunch bag, but he had to eat it standing up. For he could not sit down without crushing a house or blocking a road.