Part 2

“Then I’ll go to the very top of the mountain and tie a lighted torch to the topmost bough of the tall pine tree, so he will know that you are willing to marry him,” cried Silverboy, and in a moment he would have been away had not the Moon Lady stopped him.

“If the Gentle Giant wants me very much, he will come and get me,” she said.

“But he’s afraid,” cried Silvergirl; “he said he was.”

“Then he can’t have me,” declared the Moon Lady.

“Then we can’t get the silver door,” said Silverboy soberly.

“Why not?” asked the Moon Lady lightly. “Wandering about the world to find silver doors is not the thing for a girl, of course, but you can do it if you like. Silvergirl must stay here with me, but you may go out and search. There’s nothing to hinder your going straight up to the moon and choosing one for yourself. I’ve been there many a time. My brother is the King of the Moon.”

“But how can I get there?” cried Silverboy. “Can I go to the top of a high, high mountain and leap upon the moon when it passes by?”

“If that isn’t just like a boy!” cried the Moon Lady, with another of her merry laughs. “Silvergirl wouldn’t try to get there in any such foolish way, I know. Would you, Silvergirl?”

“I believe I should try to go to the top of the tallest tree in the world,” replied Silvergirl, “and then, when the moonbeams touched it, I would beg them to carry me home with them.”

“That’s much more sensible,” said the Moon Lady gravely; and she added with a little twinkle in her bright eyes, “If there wasn’t any other way, yours would be the best, but there’s one way that is better.”

“What is it?” cried the children together.

“You must go to the Slippery Spider and ask him for web enough to build a ladder,” she replied; “that is, you may go, Silverboy; and when you come back, we’ll talk about All-Alone Axes and Wizard Squirrels, and maybe about Gentle Giants. There’s one thing you must remember; so long as you are on the face of the earth you are safe, but if you go into the earth you will never come here again. Will you promise not to go into the earth?”

Silverboy promised. Then he said good-bye and set out in search of the Slippery Spider. He went down the mountain and over the fields, asking every bird and every bee that he met if they knew where to find the Slippery Spider, but not one of them could tell him. At length he asked a little fly that was sitting on a green leaf in the sunshine.

“Yes, I know,” said the fly, “but it makes me flutter to think of him.”

“How do you find his home?” asked Silverboy.

“You have to go into the Valley of Twilight, past nine gray rocks and three dead trees. By and by, you come to a great mass of briers, and under the briers is where the Slippery Spider lives; but don’t go there. He is--” But Silverboy was already on his way to the Valley of Twilight. He went past the nine gray rocks and the three dead trees and came to the great mass of briers; but no Slippery Spider was to be seen.

“Slippery Spider, O Slippery Spider,” he called, “won’t you please give me a little web to make a ladder to go to the moon?”

He heard a rustling in the leaves, and in a moment there stood beside him the queerest, most dried-up little old man that he had ever seen. The little old man made a bow and in a thin, squeaky voice he replied:--

“Certainly, my good sir. I shall be glad to give you web enough to go to the moon or seven times as far, if you wish. Will you kindly walk into my underground house. It is cool and comfortable there, and we will talk this matter over together.”

Silverboy was about to follow the Slippery Spider when he remembered what the Moon Lady said, that he must not go into the earth, and he asked:--

“Couldn’t we sit down here and talk about it?” He fancied that the Slippery Spider’s eyes flashed red for a moment, but the little old man said quietly:--

“I see. Some one has been telling you stories about my home. If you prefer, we will sit down under these beautiful brier bushes. Here is my favorite lane, between the Tumbling Rock and the Withering Grass. Will you come?”

“I’m too big. I can’t get in there,” replied Silverboy.

“Oh, we can manage all that,” said the Slippery Spider, in an offhand way. “Just step in and there will be no trouble.”

Silverboy thought he heard the buzzing of a fly, but he said to himself, “Surely, there’s no harm in just stepping toward the briers,” and he said to the Slippery Spider:--

“Certainly I will if you wish.”

He took one step into the narrow passageway; and he was surprised enough to find that he could walk in it without the least difficulty. “I wonder how he has done that,” he thought. “Somehow he has made the grass as tall as I am, and the brier bushes are as big as any tree in the forest. I wonder what strange thing that is a way up above my head. It looks like a mushroom, but it is as high as the roof of a house.” Suddenly it burst upon him that this really was a mushroom and that, instead of making the passage big, the Slippery Spider had made him so little that when the dreadful creature caught hold of him and dragged him down into a cavern, he could not do anything to save himself.

The cavern was dark as dark, but after his eyes were a little used to the darkness, he could see that a strong spider-web had been drawn across the opening. He felt in his tiny pocket for his tiny knife and began to cut away at the stout cords of the web; but he could not make even the smallest break.

“That’s right,” called the thin, squeaky voice, “you are a good jailer; I shan’t have to watch you.”

Silverboy looked up, and there was the Slippery Spider peering through the web, twice as tall as his prisoner. It did not seem quite so dark as at first, and Silverboy could see what an ugly grin was on his face.

“I suppose you don’t know,” said the Slippery Spider, with a hateful chuckle, “that this is a magic web, and that every time you cut a thread, you make it exactly seven times as strong as it was before. Oh, you’re a good jailer, you are!” and again he laughed, the most sneering, malicious laugh that can be imagined. At last he went away, leaving Silverboy in the darkness. He came back once more for a moment and called:--

“I say, you’re not fat enough yet. When you get fatter, I shall eat you. You won’t have long to wait.”

Poor Silverboy, there he sat and wondered if there was any way to escape. He thought of his father and mother and sister. “I shall never, never see them again,” he sobbed; and he threw himself on the cold floor of the cave and cried and cried.

Suddenly he felt a little hand wiping away his tears with the softest and daintiest of handkerchiefs. The hand was so smooth and gentle that at first he pretended not to know that it was there for fear it would go away. Then a sweet little voice said softly:--

“Boy, poor boy, don’t cry.”

“Who are you?” asked Silverboy. “How did you come here? Did the Slippery Spider bring you, too?”

“I was walking alone,” said the sweet voice, “and I saw the lane. It looked pretty, for the briers were in bloom, and I started to come into it; but before I knew it, I was in this dreadful den.”

“And did he make you small as he made me?” asked Silverboy.

“Oh, no, I am just as tall as ever.”

“Let’s stand up back to back,” said Silverboy, “and I will put my hand on my head and then on yours, for I don’t see how any one could get in here and not be made little.” So they stood up back to back, and Silverboy put his hand on his own head and then on hers, and he found, as he had expected, that she was no taller than he. Indeed, she was not quite so tall.

“But what is this on your head?” he asked. “It feels pointed and queer. What is it?”

“That’s my pearl coronet,” the little girl replied. “I wear it because my father is a king. They call me the Pearl Princess. What is your name?”

“I am Silverboy. I wish it was light so I could see your face.”

“So do I,” said the Pearl Princess; “I mean, so I could see yours. Don’t you suppose we can ever, ever get out of this horrible place?”

“We’ll find a way somehow,” declared Silverboy; for now that he was not alone, he felt much more courageous and hopeful. He pulled and tugged at the bars with all his might and main; but, try his best, he could not stir them one bit. Indeed, they only grew stronger and firmer whenever he touched them; and even after a long, long time had passed away, Silverboy and the Pearl Princess were still prisoners in the den of the Slippery Spider.

All this while Silvergirl was living in the Wonder Palace with the Moon Lady. As time passed, she was no more a child, but a tall young girl who grew prettier every day until she had become the fairest little maiden in all the land. She would have been the happiest if her brother had only come back; but the brother did not come, and she began to grow sad and pale. The Moon Lady sent her servants to scour the country roundabout. They peered into the valleys, they looked through and through every little corner of the forest; they asked all the brook fairies and all the flower fairies and all the grass fairies, but none of them had seen anything of Silverboy. Every night when they came in from their search, Silvergirl asked, “Have you found my brother?” When they answered, “No, but perhaps we shall find him to-morrow,” she looked sadder than ever.

The Moon Lady was very much troubled.

“Oh, I wish the Moon King would come!” she often said. “He would know what to do to help us.”

One night, just as it was growing dark, the Moon Lady and Silvergirl saw a bright light shining in the east. It grew larger and brighter and came nearer every minute. The palace glowed and gleamed with the reflection as if there were blazing torches in every corner of it.

“That’s my brother,” cried the Moon Lady joyfully. “He is the Moon King, and he will know how to help us find Silverboy.”

By and by the Moon King came driving straight up the side of the mountain with his six shining white horses. The Moon Lady threw her arms about his neck and kissed him. Then she made a great feast for him. On the table were the most delicious things of all the countries. The air was full of all the music of all the world, and it was a very happy time.

But after a little while the Moon King did not even look at the dainties or listen to the music. He looked at pretty Silvergirl and he listened to nothing but her voice.

“I saw your face in a dream last night,” he said, “and I want you for my Moon Queen. Will you marry me?”

“But my brother has not come back,” she answered, “and I haven’t yet found the silver door for my father and mother.”

“I’ll give you silver doors for all the cottages in the forest,” cried the Moon King, “and I’ll find your brother if he is aboveground.”

“But the Moon Lady’s servants have looked everywhere aboveground,” said Silvergirl sadly, “and they could not find him.”

“Then I’ll look underground,” declared the Moon King. “I know all the gnomes and dwarfs and pixies and underworld fairies and crickets and field mice; and there isn’t one of them that wouldn’t be gladder than glad to do me a favor. Will you marry me when I have found Silverboy?”

Even the little bird at the window could not hear her answer; but it seemed to please the Moon King, for he cried joyfully to his sister, “Take good care of my bride, and I’ll be here with Silverboy in the twinkling of a star.” And before she could say good-bye, his white horses with their golden harness were tearing down the mountain as if they were trying to catch up with the swiftest river that ever flowed.

Finding Silverboy was not quite so easy as the Moon King had expected, for no one but the Slippery Spider knew that he had become so tiny. The gnomes and the dwarfs and the pixies and the underworld fairies and all the rest looked in vain for a tall boy in search of a silver door. The crickets and the field mice looked, but Silverboy was nowhere to be found. Silvergirl grew paler and paler, and the Moon Lady began to feel anxious, not only lest some wild beast or some fierce bird of prey should have devoured Silverboy, but also lest Silvergirl should grieve herself to death for the loss of her brother.

All the little folk of the forest and field, those that wore feathers or furs or hair or just plain skin, were talking about the lost Silverboy, and at last the news came to the Thoughtful Snail. No one had dreamed of his joining in the search because he was so slow and had to carry his house about with him; but the Thoughtful Snail went to his neighbor, the Friendly Glowworm, and said:--

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Well?” said the Friendly Glowworm.

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Well?”

“I’ve been thinking,” declared the Thoughtful Snail for the third time, and then he told what he thought. “The Moon King has been good to me,” he said slowly, “and I’ve been thinking that I should like to find the brother of his bride.”

“Is that all?” exclaimed the Friendly Glowworm. “We’d every one of us like to find him.”

“But I’ve been thinking,” said the Thoughtful Snail again, and then he stopped to think a little more. The Friendly Glowworm waited patiently, and at last the Thoughtful Snail continued:--

“If they can’t find a tall young man aboveground, then there isn’t any tall young man, and he must be short.”

“Is that all?” exclaimed the Friendly Glowworm again.

“No,” replied the Thoughtful Snail slowly. “I’ve thought of something else. All the real wizards are good friends of the Moon King, and there’s only one of the creatures of the forest that can change the shape of a man.”

“You mean the Slippery Spider?” asked his friend.

“Yes,” replied the Thoughtful Snail; “and I’ve been thinking that if the Slippery Spider has changed his shape, he has made him smaller than himself, of course, or else he would have got away long before this.”

“That’s so,” exclaimed the Friendly Glowworm, beginning to be interested.

“I think he is smaller than a spider and that the Slippery Spider has fastened him into some den. You know that he can spin a magic web. It can be cut from the outside, but if any one tries to cut it from the inside, it grows stronger.”

“Then you think--”

“I’ve been thinking,” the Thoughtful Snail interrupted; “and I think that if you will go with me to carry the torch, we will go to the Slippery Spider’s hole to-night when he is away watching his nets, and perhaps we shall find Silverboy.”

That night the Thoughtful Snail and the Friendly Glowworm made their way to the lane of the Slippery Spider. The Friendly Glowworm crept under a dry leaf, and the Thoughtful Snail crouched in front of him so that the keen eyes of the Slippery Spider should see no ray of light. They watched him come out of his little lane and go away to look at his nets to see if some unwary traveler had not been caught in them; then they crept boldly in toward the den in the rock. The lane was so rough that more than once the Friendly Glowworm was tumbled from one side to the other, and so briery that the delicate horns of the Thoughtful Snail were scratched and torn; but on they went until at last they were in front of the Slippery Spider’s den. Behold, there was the magic web stretched across the opening, and thicker and stronger than was ever the web of a spider before.

The Friendly Glowworm was so excited that he quivered like a jelly; and as for the Thoughtful Snail, his shell fairly rattled against the rock. It made such a noise that Silverboy called:--

“Who’s there?”

“Who’s _there_?” cried the Thoughtful Snail gladly. “Are you Silverboy?”

“Yes, who are you?”

For answer the Thoughtful Snail pushed his whole weight against the web, while the Friendly Glowworm caught hold of it and pulled and tugged with all his might. It fell on the ground, and Silverboy stepped out, pale as pale, and so small that his new friends could hardly see him; but it was the real Silverboy himself.

“Come quick,” said they, “before the Slippery Spider comes home.”

“But I must go back for the Pearl Princess,” he declared. And although the Thoughtful Snail grumbled that he had not come to get any sort of princess, Silverboy would not think of going without her. He took her by the hand and led her out; and when the Thoughtful Snail and the Friendly Glowworm saw how beautiful she was, they were glad, indeed, that she had not been left in the den to be devoured by the Slippery Spider.

Down the little lane they all went, and at every step Silverboy and the Pearl Princess grew larger, until when they were near the opening, they had to crouch and creep to get through it at all. Silverboy was so glad to find himself growing taller again that he did not care a straw for that, and he only laughed when the briers tore his hands and his face as he tried his best to keep their sharp points from the Pearl Princess.

At last they were out of the lane, and the Thoughtful Snail cried:--

“Come, Silverboy, come. Don’t wait. The Slippery Spider may be here at any moment”; for he had forgotten that Silverboy was large enough now to kill a hundred Slippery Spiders.

But Silverboy stood gazing into the face of the Pearl Princess as if he was bewitched.

“I never, never saw any one so beautiful,” he cried. “Dear Pearl Princess, I’m a man now. Won’t you marry me?”

“Yes,” replied the Pearl Princess, “I will; that is,” she added, “I will, if you will promise never to tell any one that once I was smaller than a spider.”

Silverboy was now a tall young man. He led the Pearl Princess with one hand and carried the Thoughtful Snail and the Friendly Glowworm in the other, and they all went across fields and meadows and brooks, through forests and forests, and up the highest of all mountains to the Wonder Palace of the Moon Lady.

Then there was rejoicing that _was_ rejoicing from the very bottom of the palace to the top. The candy room threw its door open and begged to be eaten. The toys set to playing all of their own accord. The brooks ran faster than brooks ever ran before and made prettier little dimples and ripples than any other brooks ever made. The ponies began to trot and prance and canter. The gardens became more beautiful than any one ever dreamed that even a garden could be. The Moon King and Silvergirl were married, and Silverboy and the Pearl Princess were married, and the Thoughtful Snail and the Friendly Glowworm danced at the weddings.

The air was full of all the music that ever was in all the world; but from another mountain a sound came across the valley, and up, up, to the Wonder Palace, that was not music, but a most mournful sighing. When the Moon Lady heard it, her face grew pink, and she turned away and looked out of the window on the farther side of the palace.

“Heigh, there!” cried the Moon King. “Who is that sighing on the night of my wedding? Find him and give him whatever he wants. Do you know him, sister? What does he want?”

“I think it must be that he wants me,” replied the Moon Lady demurely.

“That’s--that’s--why, that’s--” stammered the Moon King, and stood staring straight at his sister, too much surprised to say another word.

“It’s the Gentle Giant over on the other mountain,” Silverboy explained. “He said he would not drag away the trees of the All-Alone Axe if the Moon Lady would marry him.”

“And so, my Moon Lady sister, you’re going to marry the Gentle Giant to save the trees of the All-Alone Axe, are you?” exclaimed the Moon King in amazement.

“I think perhaps I will,” replied the Moon Lady, with one of her little rippling laughs. “I don’t see any other way to keep him from sighing, and you don’t like to hear sighing.”

“Well, I never thought of such a thing!” declared the Moon King.

And the Moon Lady retorted gayly, “I did, then. I’ve thought of it as many times as three, and I’m going to do it. He’s the best giant in all the world, and I’m going to marry him whenever he--”

Just then there was a commotion outside, as if some one was crashing through the forest in a great hurry. There was a tramping and a stamping, and the face of the Gentle Giant appeared at the door, all ashine with pleasure.

“I heard you, I heard you,” he cried. “I heard you down the mountain, and I’ve come to get you. We’ll be married this very night, we will.” And the Gentle Giant clapped his hands and danced and sang and laughed out of pure happiness.

So there was another wedding in the palace, and then they all set off to carry the Moon Lady to the home of the Gentle Giant. The Thoughtful Snail and the Friendly Glowworm went, too, for Silverboy carried one, and the Pearl Princess carried the other. The Friendly Glowworm shone so bright that no one noticed a strange thing that was happening. Something else had joined the wedding procession. It was the Wonder Palace itself. After a little while it disappeared. It went up the mountain a shorter way, and when they came to the great door of the house of the Gentle Giant and looked in, behold, it was all aglow with light; and no wonder, for there were sunbeams and rainbows and dewdrop sparkles and waterfall gleams and fireplace sparks and Northern light glimmerings, all in one brilliant and glorious tangle. In the midst of it and round about it was all the music of all the world, for the whole Wonder Palace had slipped in through the farther door.

“The Thoughtful Snail and I have brought our houses with us,” said the bride as quietly as if she always traveled with a palace for a companion. “But, truly,” she whispered to the Gentle Giant, “I did not know it was coming.”

“Everything bright and beautiful is where you are,” he whispered back.

So it was that the Gentle Giant won his beautiful bride; that the trees of the All-Alone Axe were never again dragged away; and that the Wizard Squirrel was never driven from his home in the Ancient Oak.

But all this time the father and the mother were in their cottage far away in the depths of the forest. At twilight the two often sat in the doorway and talked about their children.

“They will come home some day,” declared the mother bravely.

“We shall never see them again,” said the father.

One night as they were saying this, they heard from far away a tramping of many horses. Up the forest road they came, their hoofs beating softly on the mossy ground. When they were in full sight, the father and the mother saw, first, a long line of knights in red armor, riding on milk-white horses; then a line of knights in blue armor, riding on horses black as the darkness itself. So they came. There were knights in green and knights in yellow; and last of all, there were three chariots abreast and an empty one behind them. The chariot on the left was made of steel that flashed in the light of the torches. In it sat a handsome young man. Beside him was his princess, and she was all aglow with softly gleaming pearls. On the right was an immense chariot of silver, and in this was a giant with so gentle a face that no one could ever be afraid of him, even though he was so large. He, too, had a bride sitting beside him. She had strings and strings of opals about her throat. Over them and over her face played a soft clear light that was almost like the moonbeams on the water. Between these two chariots was a third. It was all ablaze with diamonds, and in it sat one that every one who looked upon him would have known to be a king. The shadows were growing deeper, but a brilliant light that did not come from the torches was all about him and his beautiful bride. Whenever they spoke or looked at each other, the light flashed joyfully and made all around them as bright as day.

The father and the mother sat in the door, saying never a word, but looking and looking and looking. The wonderful procession swept past their humble little cottage, until the three chariots were in front of the door. Then they stopped. The father and the mother rose quickly and bowed themselves before the king.