Just as the lad got to where the apple-tree stood he looked over his shoulder, and there he saw the Grey Master coming over the hills.
“And where shall I go now,” says he.
“One good turn deserves another,” said the apple-tree; “just come under my branches.”
The lad did as he was told, and the apple-tree drooped its branches about him, until one could see neither hide nor hair of him.
By and by up came the Grey Master puffing and blowing. “Apple-tree,” says he, “did you see the fisher-lad come by this way?”
No, the apple-tree had seen nobody go past that place. So back went the Master home again to have another look into his Book of Knowledge. There he saw as clear as day what sort of trick had been played upon him. Off he started again after the lad at such a rate that the ground smoked under his feet.
But the lad had lost no time either, so that when he looked over his shoulder and saw the Grey Master coming across the hills behind him, he had gone as far as the brook.
“One good turn deserves another,” said the brook, and it made itself small and smaller, so that the lad stepped over without wetting so much as the sole of his foot. Then it spread itself out again three times as broad as before. Presently up came the Master, fuming like a pot on the fire.
“Brook,” says he, “did you see the fisher-lad go by this way?”
“Yes,” said the brook; “there he is just on the other side.” And there he was sure enough.