"Hurrah!" shouted the elf; "that is capital."
"Shall I teach you how to do it?" asked Laura, stopping to get breath.
"Yes; let me see the steps; go slowly. Oh, your feet are so big and clumsy I cannot copy you."
"But, Mr. Elf, you do it beautifully—really you do. Now show me, please, where the oak-trees are, that I may find my staff."
At this anxious request the elf started on a run, whooping and hallooing. Laura could do nothing else than follow him, but she found it difficult, he was so small and sprightly. Nimbly he leaped over the rocks, turning occasionally to make a queer grimace at poor Laura's efforts to keep pace with him. When it pleased him, he stopped and waited for her to come up.
A happy thought came to Laura. "Mr. Elf," said she, "I have a fine knife here. You could use it for almost anything. See, it is nearly as long as your arm, and it has a very curiously ornamented case, all of silver."
"Let me see it closer," said the elf, reaching up for it.
Laura held it high out of his reach, but his eyes evidently danced with eagerness to get it.
"A little closer—a little closer," said the elf.
"Not till I have my staff: give me that, and you shall have this," said Laura, shutting the knife and holding it still over his head.