KNEELING BESIDE A LOW OAK CHEST
HE TOOK A RUSTY KEY AND FITTED
THIS INTO THE WORN KEYHOLE
and he led me here. First to the tree with the little door; then to the Cobbler’s cottage where I met Ruth; then through the forest to the Mansion of Happiness (I stayed too long a time there—I seemed to forget); then on till I came to the Bronze King’s Palace and saw Ruth again.” Here he related to his new-found friend how he had seen Ruth, sent a message to her, and received a message from her; then how he had started on his way again. “But tell me more about the Wingèd Horse,” he added hastily.
The old wood-cutter rose from his chair and crossed the room. Kneeling beside a low oak chest mounted with silver trimmings, he took a rusty key that hung on a chain about his neck and fitted it into the worn keyhole. David could hear the old lock scrape as the key turned. Then the old man lifted the heavy lid. David sprang forward to help him, for the solid wood and silver made it very heavy. After seeking among its contents for a few minutes the old man nodded his head with satisfaction. What he lifted out was a beautiful silver bridle, set with blue and amber-coloured stones. The bit was a bar of pure yellow gold—the only gold about it—and the reins were of silken thread interwoven with silver.
“David,” said the old man, “I will lend you this. It contains a wonderful power. It is the only bridle with which the Pale-Coloured Horse can be captured. The moment one slips the golden bit between his teeth, that moment the beautiful great powerful Horse is tamed, and he who fits the bit to his mouth becomes his master. Take the bridle, David, and wait patiently at the spring, to which the Horse will surely come to drink. Seize him fearlessly by the forelock and slip this over his head and the bit into his mouth. He will obey you then, and carry you wheresoever you may wish. When the creature has served your need, tell him to return to my cottage and to me. I will take the bridle from him, and then the Pale-Coloured Horse will be free once more.”
“Who are you?” asked David. “To whom shall I tell the Horse to return? What is your name?”
“Men call me Wisdom’s Brother,” answered the old man. “Tell the Wingèd Horse to return to me; he will understand and obey you. I will direct you to the spring—for the Blue Bird cannot lead you now. I will start you on the trail at sunrise to-morrow.”
“Why can the Blue Bird not guide me?” asked David.
“Do you know for what the Blue Bird stands?”
David thought for a moment. Then the word “happiness” came into his mind. He spoke it softly.