“You must be the son of a witch!” he screamed, “get out of my house!” And he took Sorrel by the shoulders and thrust him out into the night.
“These men are a strange race,” thought Sorrel, greatly bewildered, “I was happier under the water.” And feeling somewhat disconsolate, he went out upon the waste heath and stood looking about him. Just then the moon broke through a cloud.
“Good-night,” said the moon.
“Good-night,” said Sorrel.
“It is not everyone who bids me good-night as regularly as you did when you were a child,” said the moon, “is there anything I can do for you?”
“You can light me across this heath if you will,” replied Sorrel.
“With all my heart,” the moon made answer.
So Sorrel set out across the wide expanse of heath, and all the while the moon went on before him and showed him the way, till at last they came to a deep ravine, at the bottom of which stood the wizard’s splendid castle, while on either hand there rose steep walls of rock, as sheer as the side of any house, so that Sorrel looked down into the chasm with dismay.
“Catch!” cried the moon, and flung him a ladder of moonbeams, by the help of which he descended the precipice in safety.
No sooner had he reached the golden gate of the castle than it opened of itself, and crossing the great courtyard, he saw that the little glass postern door stood open already. Then Sorrel mounted flight upon flight of marble steps, till he came upon an arched doorway. He drew aside the silken curtain that hung across it, and with a bold step entered the room where the mighty wizard sat, among his phials and talismans and all manner of magical appliances.