The Tin Soldier stood up to his neck in water. Deeper and deeper sank the boat, and softer and softer grew the paper; and now the water closed over the Soldier’s head. He thought of the pretty little dancer whom he should never see again, and in his ears rang the words of the song,
Fare thee well, thou valiant stranger;
Thou goest into mortal danger.
[[115]]
The paper boat parted in the middle, and the Tin Soldier fell down, down—but at that moment he was swallowed by a great fish.
Oh, how dark it was inside the fish! darker even than it had been in the drain, and so narrow! But the Tin Soldier retained his courage; he lay at full length, shouldering his bayonet as before.
To and fro swam the fish; then he made the strangest movements and became quite still.
Something like a flash of lightning passed through him, and a voice said, “Tin Soldier!”
The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and bought, and taken to the [[116]]kitchen, where the cook had cut it open with a large knife. She seized the Tin Soldier between her finger and thumb and carried him into the room where the family sat, and where all were eager to see the wonderful man who had traveled about in the stomach of a fish; but the Tin Soldier remained unmoved. He was not at all proud.