A little later and Ike retired to his bed. The little box had been strung around his neck, and his thoughts were centered on its contents, and despite the strong prohibition he felt an especially strong desire to open it. In fact he argued audibly:
“I have not been treated fairly. I have a right to open the box. Hang me, I will open it.”
With this resolve in his mind the lad rose from his bed slyly and searched around for something wherewith to smash the box. He found a heavy spike; and then it occurred to him that the noise might awaken the old magician, and he hesitated. Finally he remembered he had a strong knife in his pocket. He could pry the box open. He drew the knife from his pocket and made an attempt to pry open the lid when suddenly he felt a cold hand on his cheek. He turned and beheld a figure in white standing before him, and the figure spoke, saying:
“Remember your promise.”
Ike was a lad of extraordinary nerve. He had speculated in surprises all his life as the assistant of the necromancer. He had worked all manner of surprises, and therefore was less likely to be overcome by a sudden apparition. He demanded:
“What promise?”
“You promised not to open the box.”
The lad recalled that he had made such a promise and the figure spoke again and said:
“It is a test of honor. If you open that box you are without honor.”
The lad at once exclaimed: