Nothing remarkable happened through the day, and he went on leisurely. Some time after dark, as he was peering around the country for shelter, he saw a light emitted from a small low lodge. He went up to it very slyly, and, peeping through the door, he discovered an old man alone, with his head down upon his breast, warming his back before the fire.
Maidwa thought that the old man did not know that he was standing near the door; but in this he was mistaken, for, without turning his eyes to look at him, the old man said:
"Walk in, my grandchild; take a seat opposite to me, and take off your things and dry them, for you must be fatigued. I will prepare you something to eat; you shall have something very delicate."
Maidwa accepted this kind invitation and entered the lodge. The old man then remarked, as if in mere course of conversation:
"My kettle with water stands near the fire." Immediately a small earthen pot with legs appeared by the fire. He then took one grain of corn, also one of whortleberry, and put them in the pot.
Maidwa was very hungry, and seeing the limited scale of the old man's housekeeping, he thought his chance for a supper was slight. The old man had promised him something very delicate, and he seemed likely to keep his word. But Maidwa looked on silently, and did not change his face any more than if the greatest banquet that was ever spread had been going forward.
The pot soon boiled, whereupon the old man said in a very quiet way:
"The pot will stand at a distance from the fire."
The pot removed itself, and the old man added to Maidwa:
"My grandchild, feed yourself," handing him at the same time a dish and ladle of the same ware as the pot itself.