“... take us to the rock on the mountain side where the Little People dance.

That afternoon Andy and Hortense sat in the orchard eating apples.

“Do you suppose we’d grow little if we ate thirteen apples?” Hortense asked.

Andy, who had eaten six and lost his appetite, was of the opinion that they would grow bigger, could they eat so many. “Or maybe we’d burst,” he added.

“We mustn’t eat any more apples now,” said Hortense, also finishing her sixth, “and don’t eat too much supper.”

“Why?” said Andy, unwilling to sacrifice his supper without a good reason.

“I’ve a plan,” said Hortense. “We’ve got to eat thirteen cookies again and grow little but I won’t tell you what we’ll do then, for it’s to be a surprise!”

“We’ll go through the little door again and find the Cat’s house,” Andy guessed.

“We must take Highboy and Lowboy for company,” said she, “but Alligator and the others won’t do at all. How much is four times thirteen?”

“Fifty-two,” said Andy after a moment.

“That’s a great many cookies,” said Hortense. “I do hope Aunt Esmerelda bakes this afternoon so there are sure to be enough. You see, both Highboy and Lowboy will have to eat thirteen cookies, too, making fifty-two for all of us.”

“I wonder how many Alligator would have to eat?” said Andy. “Most likely a whole jar full, he’s so big.”

“He can’t ride anyhow,” Hortense began, and then clapped her hand to her mouth and refused to say another word.

On her way to supper, however, she looked into the cooky jar and found it full to the top. She very carefully counted out fifty-two cookies and carried them up to her room in her apron.

That night, when all was still and Andy had come by his usual route through the basement, Hortense took him and Lowboy to her room.

“What’s up to-night?” asked Lowboy. “Oh, I see, upstairs.”

“If you make bad jokes, you can’t come with us,” Hortense warned him.

Lowboy promised to be good, and Hortense brought out the cookies and divided them into four piles of thirteen each.

“I know,” said Lowboy, “we’ll pretend that this is a midnight spread in boarding school. Jeremiah and Grater will be teachers who try to catch us and

“All you have to do is to eat your thirteen cookies,” said Hortense, “all but a little piece of the last one which you must save and put in your pocket.”

“After twelve to begin with, I can do that,” joked Lowboy.

“If it kills me,” said Highboy, “tell them I died a pleasant death.”

Then nobody said a word for a while, and all ate their cookies. At the tenth, Highboy remarked that thirteen would be all he would want.

“I’ll break my top off or lose a handle,” said he, “but it’s a nice game.”

“What’s happening to me?” asked Lowboy, after taking a bite of his thirteenth.

“Don’t eat any more,” Hortense warned him.

“How could I?” asked Lowboy. “I’m not a storeroom or a wardrobe trunk! Besides, your Grandmother has me half filled with her knitting and things. I must say I prefer cookies.”

“I wish,” said Highboy to Hortense, “that you hadn’t packed away that last dress in my bottom drawer.”

“Don’t you see that you’ve grown small?” Hortense asked.

“Too small for the cookies,” said Lowboy. “My clothes are so tight that I can’t squeeze this last piece into my pocket.”

“Now we’re ready for the next part of the game,” said Hortense, getting up.

“No running or anything like that,” said Lowboy. “I can’t do it.”

“You’ll only have to walk a short way, and after that it will be easy.”

But Hortense had forgotten that to people as small as they had become, it was a long walk down the hall, and the stairs, and through the house.

“We should have eaten the cookies outside, of course,” said she. “I didn’t think.”

However, following Hortense as leader, they finally reached the barn. Hortense stopped at the door.

“How will we ever get onto their backs?” said she. “Of course, we should have climbed on first and then eaten the cookies. I’m managing this very badly. Perhaps,” she added hopefully, “they’ll be lying down.”

As luck would have it, Tom and Jerry were lying down in their stalls, for they were still weary from their adventure of the night before. Small as they were, Hortense and Highboy had no great difficulty in scrambling up Tom’s side and taking a firm hold of his mane, nor did Jerry object when Andy and Lowboy mounted him. Tom looked at his riders in mild surprise, but made no move to get up.

“What next?” asked Lowboy.

“You’ll see,” said Hortense, who began to repeat the charm which Grater had spoken:

Ride, ride, ride For the world is fair and wide. The moon shines bright On a magic night, And Tom and Jerry Are able very To ride, ride, ride.

At the first words Tom turned reproachful eyes upon her.

“I didn’t think it of you, Hortense,” said he. “Jerry and I are worn out with riding, and here you abuse us, too.”

“We’ll be easy on you,” said Hortense. “You have only to take us to the rock on the mountain side where the Little People dance. There you may rest until we return home. Besides, if we left you here Grater and Jeremiah might come and ride again.”

“That is true,” said Tom, “and another such ride as last night’s would be the end of me.”

“Quick then, to the rock,” said Hortense, and in a twinkling Tom and Jerry were out of the barn and soaring high in the air over the field and the orchard, over the brook and the tree tops beyond. The moon shone full and bright upon them, and every one was so thrilled with its brightness that he felt like singing. Lowboy did break into a song, but Hortense silenced him at once for fear of frightening the Little People.

Over the tree tops they came and down towards the rock. Hortense could see the Little People dancing, but before Tom and Jerry could alight, the Little People had seen them and disappeared into the mountain.

“After them, quick,” Hortense cried, slipping from Tom’s back, and the others followed her as she ran into the entrance to the mountain.

The passage was small and dark and wound this way and that. Soon it ended, and Hortense and the others came into the land where the blue moon was shining as before. But nowhere was there any sign of the Little People.

“What shall we do now?” Hortense asked when they had all stopped, not knowing what to do next.

“It’s your party,” said Lowboy. “You say what we shall do.”

“There’s a path,” said Andy, pointing to a way among the trees.

“I believe,” said Highboy, who had been looking around, “that these are raspberries on this bush. Um um good,” and he began to eat as rapidly as he could pick them.

With difficulty Lowboy dragged his brother away from the tempting fruit and after Andy and Hortense, who had gone down the path. The path wandered every which way and seemed to go on forever.

“This isn’t the way to the Cat’s house at any rate,” said Hortense, stopping to take breath, for they had gone at a rapid pace.

“What’s that?” exclaimed Highboy.

All listened intently. There seemed, indeed, to be something moving among the bushes. Almost as soon as it started, the slight noise stopped, and they went on.

The path suddenly came to an end in an open place. Hortense and the others paused to look around, and as if by magic, innumerable Little People appeared on all sides archers in green coats, armed with bows and arrows; pike-men in helmets and breastplates, and swordsmen with great two handled swords slung across their backs.

The captain of the fairy army, a fierce little man with a pointed mustache, stepped forward.

“Yield!” he commanded in a sharp voice. “You are prisoners! Bind them and take them to the King.”

His men did as they were bid, and in a twinkling Hortense and Andy and Highboy and Lowboy found themselves with bound hands, marching forward, surrounded by the armed Little People.

“We are bound to have a trying time,” said Lowboy, joking as usual. “The King will try us.”

Hortense and Andy were too depressed to enjoy jokes, and Highboy, with tears streaming down his cheeks, was composing a poem bidding a sad farewell to home and friends. Hortense could hear him trying rhymes to find one which would fit “home, moan, bone, lone.”

“Those don’t rhyme,” said Hortense irritably. “It must end with m, not n.”

“But so few good words end in m,” Highboy protested. “There’s roam of course. That might do. For instance,

If once again I see my home
Never more at night I’ll roam.

Not bad is it?”

Hortense thought it very bad indeed but didn’t say so, for Highboy was finding pleasure in his rhymes and she hadn’t the heart to depress him. She held tight to Andy’s hand and walked on without speaking.

They were marched into a little glade, brightly lighted with glowworms and fireflies imprisoned in crystal lamps. The Queen sat upon her throne, but the King walked up and down in front of his and tugged at his tawny beard, and he looked very fierce.

“Here are the prisoners, your Majesty,” said the captain of the guard, saluting.

“Ha,” said the King. “Good, we’ll try and condemn them at once.”

“Please, your Majesty,” said Hortense timidly, “we’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” said the King. “Prisoners are always guilty. However, you’ll have a fair trial; I’ll be the judge myself. What have you to say for yourselves?”

“We were seeking your assistance against Grater,” said Hortense. “That is why we came to you.”

The King shuddered, and all the Little People standing near by turned pale.

“He is never to be mentioned in my presence,” said the King. “The penalty is ten years’ imprisonment. Besides, how can you know so much about him unless you are his servants? It stands to reason that you are not telling the truth.”

“Oh dear!” said Hortense. “How unfair you are!”

“It’s a first principle of law that what a prisoner says is untrue,” said the King. “I always go on that principle, and that is why I am always right.”

“And you’d rather be right than be King, of course,” said Lowboy.

“Silence!” roared the King. “Who dares speak so to me?”

The guard thrust Lowboy forward so that the King could see him better.

“A low fellow,” said the King.

“But always in high spirits,” said Lowboy.

“I am the only one here who is allowed to make jokes,” said the King.

“It must be great to be a king,” said Lowboy.

It is, said the King. Take this fellow and set him to weeding the royal strawberry beds for ten years. And you, he said, turning to Highboy, stole my raspberries. Since you like them so well, you may pick them for ten years. Away with them! As for you two, pointing to Andy and Hortense

Here the Queen interrupted.

“They look like a nice little boy and girl,” said she. “Keep them until morning and then look further into the matter. Perhaps they are speaking the truth. I’m sure they are.” And she smiled upon them.

The King walked up and down for a moment, without speaking.

“Very well. Be it as you wish,” he agreed at last. “It is the Queen’s privilege to command clemency.”

“She should have some privilege if she has to laugh at the royal jokes,” said Lowboy.

“Fifteen years!” roared the King. “I told you to put that fellow to work.”

The guards hurried Lowboy and Highboy away, and Andy and Hortense were left alone.

“These two may be imprisoned in the pine tree,” said the King, “until morning. Then I’ll decide what further to do with them.”

Six of the little soldiers took Andy and Hortense by the arm and led them to the foot of a big pine tree. Taking a key from his pocket, the officer in command unlocked a little door in the trunk of the tree, Hortense and Andy entered their prison, and he closed and locked the door after them. It was very dark, but as their eyes became accustomed to it, Andy and Hortense could see a little.

The hollow trunk made a round room, which was carpeted with pine needles for a bed. There was nothing else whatsoever. Above them the room reached high into the trunk, and at the very top they could see a little patch of light.

“It’s probably a knot hole,” said Andy, “and if we could climb so high, we might crawl through and get outside.”

“We couldn’t get down without being seen even then,” reasoned Hortense.

“There’s a chance,” said Andy. “Anyway, they might not see us and just decide we had already escaped. It’s worth trying.”

“Very carefully they searched the trunk of the tree, seeking something that would help them climb.

“Here’s something that looks like a crack in the trunk,” said Andy. “If I could get a foothold in that, I believe I could climb to the top. Give me a hand here.”

Hortense did as she was bid, and Andy began to climb.

“It gets easier,” he said in a moment. “Can you find a foothold and follow me?”

Try as she would, Hortense couldn’t manage a start.

“I’ll come back,” said Andy, descending until he could give Hortense a hand. With Andy’s aid Hortense succeeded in climbing a few feet and after that was able to make her own way.

Up and up they climbed, coming at last to the hole at the top which was just big enough to crawl through. Outside was a great limb, and on this they rested.

“The Little People will hardly see us here, we’re so high up,” said Andy.

“But we can’t get down,” said Hortense, “so it does us little good.”

Andy made no reply, for he was looking about him.

“These trees grow very close together,” said he. “I believe I’ll see where this branch goes.”

Off he went, and Hortense waited. At last he came back, saying, “We can get to the next tree, and from that to another. When we are far enough away from the sentry, we’ll try to climb down.”

With Andy leading the way, they went out to the end of the branch which just touched the branch of the next tree. Onto this they were able to climb, and they made their way slowly to the trunk; then out on a branch on the other side, and so to the next tree. In this way they progressed from tree to tree, but each was as big as the last and it was impossible for such little people as they to climb down.

“We might eat a bite of cooky and grow big,” said Hortense.

“Then we couldn’t get out of the tunnel,” said Andy, “and we’d have to stay here forever.”

They seemed to be in a bad fix, indeed.

“If we could only fly,” said Hortense, “how nice it would be.”

“That’s an idea,” said Andy.

Looking about him a moment, he began to climb to the branch above.

“Come here,” he called, and Hortense followed.

At the base of the branch there was a hole in the tree, and, looking through this, they saw a snug nest lined with twigs and moss.

“It’s the nest of some big bird,” said Andy. “We’ll wait here and ask him to take us down.”

It seemed the only thing to do and, making themselves as comfortable as they could, they set themselves to wait.

The blue moon rose higher and higher, and they became quite stiff.

“It may be a last year’s nest,” said Hortense.

“Or an owl’s, and he won’t come home until morning,” said Andy.

They had almost fallen asleep when something big and white sailed down and alighted on the branch a great owl like the one on Grandmother’s mantel, with fierce, bright eyes.

“Who, who are you?” said the Owl. “And what are you doing at my door?”

“Please, sir,” said Hortense, “we want to get down to the ground and cannot.”

“Fly down,” said the Owl.

“We can’t fly,” said Hortense.

“How absurd,” said the Owl. “You shouldn’t climb trees then.”

“We had to, to get away from the Little People,” helped Andy.

“So that’s it,” said the Owl. “They are a nuisance, I’ll admit, spoiling all the hunting with their songs and dancing. I’m inclined to help you. What will you give me if I carry you down?”

Andy and Hortense searched their pockets and turned out a piece of string, a top, five jacks, a pocketknife, and two not very clean handkerchiefs.

“Those are of no use to me,” said the Owl.

“We have nothing else except some pieces of cooky,” bargained Hortense.

“Very well,” the Owl grumbled, “I’ll take them though it’s not enough.”

Hortense gave him her cooky all but a tiny piece which she saved to eat when she wanted to grow big again. The Owl swallowed it in one gulp.

“Very good cooky,” he commented, “though I should prefer a little more molasses. Get on my back.”

Hortense obeyed, and the Owl spread his great wings. Out and out he soared and then came gently to earth, and Hortense slipped off his back.

“Thanks very much,” said she.

“Don’t mention it,” said the Owl and, spreading his wings, soared away into the tree.

A moment later Andy was beside her.

“If you cross the strawberry field and the raspberry patch,” the Owl suggested, “you’ll come to a path that goes by the house. If you can get by that unseen, perhaps you can escape.”

“What house?” Hortense asked.

The Owl ruffled out his feathers fiercely.

“The house where that miserable Cat lives with the bright thing,” said he.

The Owl flew away and Andy and Hortense started to run across the strawberry field, stopping now and then to eat the ripe, sweet berries. In the middle of the field they noticed something black. Its presence frightened them, and they feared to go close to it. However, it did not move for some moments, and cautiously they drew nearer. It was Lowboy, fast asleep.

Hortense shook him and he opened his eyes.

“Get up and come home,” said Hortense. But Lowboy would not move.

“I’ve eaten so many strawberries that I can’t budge,” said he.

“Then we’ll have to leave you,” Hortense replied.

“There are worse fates than fifteen years of such strawberries,” said Lowboy. “Perhaps, though, I’ll get away sometime and find the road home.”

“Where’s Highboy?” Hortense demanded.

“Over there in the raspberry patch,” said Lowboy, “but I fear he’s in as bad shape as I am.”

And so it proved, for when they came upon Highboy in the middle of the patch he was seated on the ground, lazily picking berries from the stems about his head.

“Get up and come with us,” Hortense commanded.

Highboy shook his head.

“I must serve my sentence,” said he. “After that, if I’m not turned into a raspberry tart, I’ll try to find my way home. The only thing is that I find it hard to write poetry when I’ve eaten so much. Poetry should be written on an empty stomach. I can’t think of a rhyme for raspberry.”

“I don’t believe there is one,” said Hortense. “What difference does it make, anyhow?”

“Ah,” said Highboy, “you’re not a poet and don’t know what it is to want a rhyme.”

So Andy and Hortense sadly left him and by and by came to the other side of the raspberry patch and to the path of which the Owl had spoken.

“I suppose we must try to reach home this way,” said Hortense, “for we daren’t go by the Little People again.”

“One way is about as bad as another,” Andy agreed.

“If we meet Jeremiah and Grater, we’ll eat our cooky quick,” Hortense said. “Then they won’t be so formidable.”

“And then we’d never get through the tunnel,” finished Andy.

However, they kept on along the path which they had traveled before and after a while came to the little gate beyond which lay the Cat’s house. There was no light except the gleam of the fire upon the windowpane.

Andy and Hortense hesitated.

“Let’s look in,” said Andy. “Perhaps no one’s at home.”

“And then I might find my charm,” Hortense added eagerly.

They peeped through the window and saw nothing but a low fire on the hearth and the dim, kindly face of the big clock.

“Let’s risk it,” said Hortense and lifting the latch, walked in.

“Hello,” said the Clock genially. “You here again? It’s a dangerous place for little folks.”

“We shan’t stay,” said Hortense. “I want to get my charm if I can.”

But the charm was not in its place under the glass upon the mantel.

“Oh dear,” said Hortense.

“Jeremiah took the charm away,” said the Clock. “Perhaps he’ll bring it back in time.”

“You have all the time there is,” Hortense said. “We haven’t and can’t wait so long.”

Still, there was nothing to do, not then at least, and bidding the Clock good-by, she and Andy hurried away. The blue moon was setting, and soon, they knew, it would be day. They hastened their steps and had nearly reached the tunnel when Andy suddenly pulled Hortense into the bushes beside the path.

Down the path came the sound of footsteps and past them hurried Jeremiah and Grater.

“Let’s hurry,” said Andy, “before they come back.”

They ran down the tunnel as fast as they could and soon came to the large cave under the brook where the water dripped without ceasing.

“Safe so far,” said Andy, “but the last part is uphill and harder.”

They crossed the cave and ran on, looking back now and then as they paused to catch their breath.

“We’re lucky,” said Andy when they had passed the little door safely and shut it behind them.

They slipped through the wooden chute into the cellar and seated themselves on the stairs to eat their bites of cooky.

“Oh,” said Hortense suddenly, “what do you suppose will become of Tom and Jerry? I’d forgotten them completely.”

“We’ll have to wait and see,” said Andy. “I’m sleepy and must get to bed.”

So, too, was Hortense, and she did not awaken in the morning until ten o’clock when the sun was shining high. Her only thought was of Tom and Jerry and what might have become of them, until she tried to open a drawer in the highboy to find a dress when she also remembered that Highboy and Lowboy were imprisoned.

The drawer wouldn’t open; it was stuck fast. So, too, were the other drawers. Nor when she spoke to Highboy did he answer; he was not there. Only a dead thing of wood stood where Highboy had been.

“Dear me,” thought Hortense, “I suppose it is the same with Lowboy. How then, will Grandmother get at her knitting?”

She hastily dressed in the clothes she had worn the day before. Breakfast was over, and Hortense begged Aunt Esmerelda for a bite in the kitchen. Aunt Esmerelda was muttering to herself.

“Dis yere house is sho’ hoodooed. Mah cookies is gone, an’ I done made a crock full yistahday. An’ yo’ gran’ma’s chist of drawahs, dey don’ open. An’ de hosses is plumb gone. It ain’t no place fo’ me.”

Hortense kept a discreet silence and hurriedly finished her breakfast. Then she ran to her Grandmother.

“I shall have to get Fergus to pry open the drawer of the lowboy,” said Grandmother. “It won’t open at all.” Then noticing Hortense’s soiled dress for the first time, she added,

“Dear me, child, you should have on a clean dress.”

“The drawer in the highboy wouldn’t open, Grandma,” said Hortense.

“And your Grandfather is looking for the horses. They have disappeared,” said Grandmother. “I’m sure I don’t know what is the matter with everything.”

Hortense ran out to the barn to find her Grandfather. Fergus, Uncle Jonah, and Grandfather were standing before the barn discussing the loss of Tom and Jerry. Hortense stood quietly by, listening to what they said, but all the time her eyes were on the mountain side, seeking the rock where last evening she had left Tom and Jerry. She found it at last and watching it closely, saw something move.

“I think Tom and Jerry are way up on the mountain side by that big rock,” said she pointing.

Grandfather and Uncle Jonah could see nothing, but Fergus, whose eyes were good, said finally, “I see something moving there, to be sure, but how Tom and Jerry could reach such a place, I can’t see. However, I’ll go look.”

Uncle Jonah shook his head and went away muttering; Hortense, holding her Grandfather’s hand, went with him to his library. Grandfather took her on his knee and for a while said nothing just sat with wrinkled brows, thinking. Then he raised his eyes to the bronze Buddha and spoke, half to himself.

“I believe if we could make the image talk we’d learn what’s at the bottom of all these mysterious happenings. He looks as if he could talk, doesn’t he? Perhaps if we burned incense before him he might speak.”

“What is incense?” Hortense asked.

“This,” said Grandfather, opening a drawer and showing her a sweet-smelling powder. “If we burned this before him and he were pleased with us, he might be made to talk. So the Hindoos believe. But I’m afraid he’d pay no attention to unbelievers.”

Grandfather was joking, of course, but nevertheless Hortense pondered his words and made note of the drawer in which her Grandfather kept the little packet of incense.

Late that afternoon Fergus arrived home with Tom and Jerry, having had an awfully hard time getting them safely down the mountain side. It was so late that Fergus had no time to see to the drawers which refused to open in the lowboy and the highboy. For this Hortense was glad; she feared that it would hurt Highboy and Lowboy to have the drawers forced open and, besides, she meant that night to do her best to rescue them from the Little People. To that end she ran to the hedge which divided her yard from Andy’s and, calling to Andy, told him her purpose.