“All in good time,” said the sorcerer; “in the meantime, you must get a little rest, for you have an important task to do in the morning.”
I was tired out, in fact. The sorcerer left me, and I sat beside the sleeping stork, watching it in silence for a long while, and then I surrendered myself to drowsiness, and fell asleep.
When I awoke, it was morning. The stork was gone, and the sorcerer’s hand was on my shoulder.
“Come,” said he, and placed in my hand a tiny bow of thin metal, with a string of fine hair, and showed me how to use the stork’s feather as an arrow to the bow. He then instructed me in what I had to do, and led me out into the street.
The stork which had been a Princess was standing on the curb before the door, and all the other storks were in their places on the housetops. The street was already busy; shops and houses were being opened for the day and many people were outdoors.
He Lies in Wait with a Bow and Arrow
Carrying the stork’s feather and the bow, I went to the next corner, round which on the evening before I had seen the Ragpicker turn up toward her home. I passed this corner, and concealed myself in a doorway just beyond.
I had not long to wait. I had drawn my head back into the doorway for a moment, and when I looked again the Ragpicker was standing at the street crossing with her back toward me, gazing in the direction of the stork which stood before the sorcerer’s door. On her back was her bag, and in her left hand she carried a knife. The people in the street stopped to watch her, muttering together.
“Skag!” said she, “come in!” And she turned sidewise to her shadow, which lay at a great length on the ground before her. It began to shorten toward her, and kept shortening until it was no longer than herself. “Stand up!” said she, and the shadow stood upright beside her, a black, flat image of herself in outline, looking as if it had been cut from stiff, black paper.
The Ragpicker let down the bag from her shoulder and opened it on the ground and said “Come out!” And at this all the people gave a cry of terror and fled into their houses and shut the doors, and all the storks on the housetops fluttered their feathers and flapped their wings.