“Well, I’ll tell you,” continued Mr. Thimblefinger, holding the watch to his ear. “One fine morning this rich young man was so weak that he couldn’t get up. He tried to, but his foot slipped, and he rolled to the foot of the mountain of gold and lay there. He lay there so long and so quietly that the two gray lizards crept close to him to see what was the matter. He moved one of his fingers, and they darted back to their holes.
“The rich young man lay so still that the big black bird, sailing overhead, came nearer and nearer, and finally alighted at a respectful distance from the rich young man. The two gray lizards came out again, and crawled cautiously toward the rich young man. The big black bird craned his neck and looked, and then went a little closer. A sudden gust of wind caused the rich young man’s coat to flap. The gray lizards scrambled towards their holes, and the big black bird jumped up in the air and flew off a little way.
“But presently they all came back, bird and lizards, and this time they went still closer to the rich young man. The big black bird went so close that there is no telling what he would have done next, but just then the old man came running towards them. He had untied the two ends of his beard, and was waving them in the air as if they were flags. The big black bird flew away very angry, and the gray lizards ran over each other trying to get to their holes.
“The old man, tied up his beard again, took up the rich young man on his shoulder, and carried him to the boat. Once there he gave the rich young man some wine. This revived him, and in a little while he was able to eat. But he had no opportunity to talk. The wind whirled the boat through the water, and in a few hours it had arrived at the young man’s town.
“He went home, and soon recovered in more ways than one. He found his strength again, and lost his appetite for riches. But he worked hard, saved all he could, and was soon prosperous; but he never remembered without a shiver the time that he was the richest man in the world.”
XVI.
AN OLD-FASHIONED FUSS.
“I don’t blame ’im fer shiverin’,” said Drusilla; “but, I let you know, here’s what wouldn’t shiver none ef she had dat ar big pile er gol’ what de man had. I’d ’a’ cotch me some fish; I’d ’a’ gobbled up dem lizards, yit!”
“Well,” remarked Mr. Rabbit, “I expect money is a pretty big thing. I’ve heard a heap of talk about it, and I’ve known some big fusses to grow out of it. And yet money doesn’t cause all the fusses—oh, no! not by a long jump. I once heard of a fuss that happened long before there was any money, and the curious part about it was that nobody knew what the fuss grew out of.”
“What fuss was that?” asked Buster John, who thought that perhaps there might be a story in it.