For several minutes Snip lay where he had fallen, too shaken and breathless to care where he was. Then, rolling over, he looked anxiously around. In the faint starlight, not much was visible. He seemed to be in a small orchard and just beyond the trees he could see the dim outlines of a strange city. Satisfying himself that no immediate danger threatened and too weary to go another step, the worn-out little adventurer flung himself down beside the well and was soon fast asleep.
It was morning and nearly nine o'clock when he was awakened by the sound of hurrying foot-steps and shrill cries.
"He has freckles," screamed the first voice.
"His nose turns up," shouted the second.
"Who threw him in our well?" demanded a third fretfully. "Is he welcome or is he not?"
"Not!" boomed the voices altogether.
"Take his hat, get his buttons!" growled a deep bass voice. At this the steps pattered so close that Snip rolled over and sat up, confronting as he did so the very oddest company he had ever seen. For one unbelievable second he stared, thinking he must still be asleep and dreaming. The company on their part regarded him with blank looks. And no wonder. They had not a face among them!
