“Goodbye, kind Hare, and thank you for telling me,” said Siegfrid, as the Hare ran off.
Then he took a bit of dry wood and set it alight, and placed it under the pile of boots. They soon caught fire, and burnt steadily, but Siegfrid noticed that they made no noise except a low hissing like water boiling. The pile went on burning for some time, and then went out quite suddenly, with a loud bang, leaving no sparks or smoke, and when Siegfrid felt among the ashes he found they were quite cold. He searched among them as the Hare had directed, and at the bottom of the heap he found a pair of sandals, which seemed to be quite unhurt by the fire. He drew them on to his feet, and then standing in the middle of the ashes stamped hard. At once he felt the earth begin to move, and a great hole opened in front of him, which appeared to be the beginning of a long dark passage.
Siegfrid summoned all his courage, and sitting on the edge of the hole dropped gently into the passage, and ran down it. It was quite dark, and so narrow that if he moved either of his hands he knocked the walls, and if he stretched his neck he touched the ceiling. There was only just room for him to walk, so that there was no fear of his losing his way. He went on and on, and still there was no light or no opening to right or to left. Then he began to call. He called “Handa, Handa, Handa!” and the name rang back to him from every side, but he knew it was not Handa’s voice he heard, but only a mocking echo. He feared the Hare had deceived him, and he might go on wandering in this dark passage forever. He felt inclined to sit down and cry in despair, but there was no room to sit down, and just as he grew so tired that he thought he could go no farther, he saw in the distance a dim red light, and making one last effort he ran towards it. He found it came from a large bare vault, into which the passage led, and which was quite brilliantly lighted, though there was neither candle, lamp, nor window. On the farther side of the vault were sitting in a row what he at first believed to be six statues, but on looking a second time, to his great joy, he saw it was Handa and her five companions.
“Handa!” he cried. “Come, it is I.” But Handa never moved, but sat as if she were turned to stone, looking straight in front of her. Then Siegfrid remembered the magic shoes on her feet, and running to her pulled them off at once. Handa jumped up, and the first thing she said was, “Siegfrid, what have you done to your eye?”
Siegfrid told her all that had happened, and how he had given his eye to the Owl, and said he did not care for the loss of his eye now that he had found her; but Handa cried, and told him that she had rather the old man had killed her than that he should have lost his eye.
Then they turned to the five other little girls, who still sat like marble figures, and Siegfrid drew the shoes from their feet, and one by one they sprang up, and thanked him for coming to save them. Siegfrid showed them the long dark passage, and then led the way up it, the children following close behind him.
When they got to the opening in the forest, they saw that the sun was shining brightly, so that four or five hours had passed since Siegfrid had burnt the shoes, although it had seemed much less.
He helped all the children out of the hole, and then jumped out himself, but no sooner were his feet again upon the grass than the sandals fell from them and crumbled to bits, as if they too had been burnt to ashes, and at the same moment the hole in the ground closed up, and no mark was left where it had been.
The miller, Handa’s father, was so wearied with searching, that he was obliged to lie down to sleep that night, but at sunrise he sprang up to start again on the hunt after the lost children.
When he was dressed he could not find his boots anywhere.
“ ’Tis very odd,” he said, “for I know I placed them here. Wife, have you seen my boots?” But the wife said she had seen nothing of them, and, what was very strange, she could not find her own boots either.
“Never mind,” quoth he, “I can walk as well without boots.”
So he started with his feet bare, but when he came to the roadside where the old man was as usual putting up his stall, he paused.
“Neighbour,” he said, “could you let me have a pair of very cheap boots this morning? I can’t find my own anywhere.”
And the old man answered as usual—
“Come, buy! come, buy!
Shoes for all.
Who’ll try? who’ll try?”
As the miller took up some of the boots to choose a pair, he looked at the old man and said, “Why, friend, what’s wrong? Are you ill? You have grown very pale and thin in the night.”
But the old man said nothing, and the miller chose a pair of boots which he thought likely to fit, and put them on. But no sooner were they on his feet than
