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fairly reeled at the thought. The sun would continue
to rise and set, but when it went down, thousands
upon thousands of his fire-wheels would be
shining in the land, and the air would tremble with
warmth as on hot summer days. Then they would
gather harvests in midwinter; raspberries and
whortleberries would grow on the wooded hills the year
round, and never again would the rivers be icebound.
Now that his invention was perfected, he was
to revolutionize the world. His fire-wheel would be
furs to the poor, sunlight to the miner. It would
give motor power to machinery, added life to
nature, and a bountiful and happy existence to
mankind. Then came the thought that the Wood
Nymph would never let him duplicate his wheel.
Seized with råge and a desire for revenge, he wanted
to kill her.
He tore over to the dwelling-house and placed
his fiery wheel in the outer hall under the stairs,
for he meant to set fire to the house and burn the
witch. Returning to the smithy, he sat down and
calmly awaited results.
Presently he heard shouts and cries. Evidently
his design had worked.
“Yes—run, shriek, sound the alarm! She is
burning, the witch you placed on silken cushions.
Mayhap she is now writhing in torment or fleeing
before the flames from room to room; for witches
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