But the fisherman’s wife had listened to what the old man had said about paying for the job, and she was of a different mind from her husband. “Come,” said she, “the old man promises to pay you well. This is not a chance to be lost, I can tell you, and my advice to you is that you go.”
The fisherman shook his head. No, he would not go; he had said he would not, and he would not. But the wife only smiled and said again, “My advice to you is that you go.”
The fisherman grumbled and grumbled, and swore that he would not go. The wife said nothing but one thing. She did not argue; she did not lose her temper; she only said to everything that he said, “My advice to you is that you go.”
At last the fisherman’s anger boiled over. “Very well,” said he, spitting his words at her; “if you will drive me out into the night, I suppose I will have to go.” And then he spoke the words that so many men say: “Many a man has come to trouble by following his wife’s advice.”
Then down he took his fur cap and up he took his nets, and off he and the old man marched through the moonlight, their shadows bobbing along like black spiders behind them.
Well, on they went, out from the town and across the fields and through the woods, until at last they came to a dreary, lonesome desert, where nothing was to be seen but gray rocks and weeds and thistles.
“Well,” said the fisherman, “I have fished, man and boy, for forty-seven years, but never did I see as unlikely a place to catch anything as this.”
But the old man said never a word. First of all he drew a great circle with strange figures, marking it with his finger upon the ground. Then out from under his red gown he brought a tinder-box and steel, and a little silver casket covered all over with strange figures of serpents and dragons and what not. He brought some sticks of spice-wood from his pouch, and then he struck a light and made a fire. Out of the box he took a gray powder, which he flung upon the little blaze.
Puff! flash! A vivid flame went up into the moonlight, and then a dense smoke as black as ink, which spread out wider and wider, far and near, till all below was darker than the darkest midnight. Then the old man began to utter strange spells and words. Presently there began a rumbling that sounded louder and louder and nearer and nearer, until it roared and bellowed like thunder. The earth rocked and swayed, and the poor fisherman shook and trembled with fear till his teeth clattered in his head.
Then suddenly the roaring and bellowing ceased, and all was as still as death, though the darkness was as thick and black as ever.