Chapter XV

"Good-morning!" said the Funny Man, politely. "I hope you slept well."

"I did not sleep at all," replied the Prince, hotly; "and of course you knew I wouldn't."

"That was the joke, you know," the Funny Man chuckled, pocketing his knife and preparing to lead the way to the breakfast-table.

The Prince, however, had no mind for another feast like that of the night before; so he resisted all urging and started forth.

"Don't miss the way!" said the Funny Man, who seemed to be much cast down because the Prince would not stay to breakfast. "Cross the stream, you know, than climb a red stile, and there you are on the straight road. If ever I come your way I'll make you a visit. I've taken a fancy to you."

"That's more than I've done to you," muttered Vance, as he trudged away.

He was very angry indeed with the Funny Man, and yet he had an unpleasant remembrance of a time, not so very far away, when he himself was the terror of the entire palace on account of his fondness for playing cruel jokes upon others.

The road was rough, the sun was hot, and the Prince was so famished that he was glad to devour a couple of apples which had fallen from the cart of a peasant bound for market. Still Vance cheered himself with the thought that his troubles were about to end. He was now near the home of the Crushed Strawberry Wizard; so he pressed on till mid-afternoon, only stopping once when he came upon some pears growing upon a stunted tree by the roadside. They were small, crabbed, and stony; but the hungry Prince was glad enough to gather a number and eat them seated in the pear-tree's scanty shade. As to the Court, it was quite a relief to Vance to remember that the peasants at the fair had provided the baby-house with cakes and bonbons enough to last for many days.

"After all," the Prince said to himself, as he once more trudged along,--"after all, they have a far easier time of it than I. I don't think I should much mind being little myself if I could have as good a time as they do."

Toward the middle of the afternoon the Prince reached a dark wood into which his road seemed to lead him. He had not walked far before he heard a sound as of somebody sobbing, and also a curious clashing noise as of cymbals striking together. These sounds became more and more distinct as the Prince kept on; and at last he came to a small monkey who was seated in a low juniper-tree, weeping most bitterly and now and then smiting its hands together in sorrow. The hands of the monkey, being of metal (as indeed was the creature's entire body), produced, as they beat together, the cymbal-like sounds which the Prince had heard.

"What is the matter?" asked the Prince, as the monkey continued to weep without paying any attention whatever to him.

The monkey, looking up, wiped its eyes upon a small lace handkerchief which was already quite damp enough.

"I am so miserable," it sighed. "Did you never hear folk say it was cold enough to freeze the tail off a brass monkey? I am the brass monkey. They mean me; they mean my tail."

"But it never has been cold enough to freeze your tail off," said the Prince, consolingly.

"No," replied the monkey, wretchedly; "but then I'm always afraid it will be, and that's just as bad. Oh, what a world this is!"

The monkey upon this fell to weeping more bitterly than before, and the Prince sneezed violently three times.

"There!" exclaimed the monkey, dismally; "now you're taking cold because I'm so damp with crying."

"Oh, never mind that!" replied the Prince, politely. "It really doesn't matter. A good sneeze is really quite refreshing."

"That reminds me," said the monkey, "that I was sent to tell you to go back again; this isn't the road."

"Not the--" began the Prince, looking puzzled.

"Road," finished the monkey, beginning to cry once more. "To the Crushed Strawberry Wizard's, you know. You have just come back by another way nearly to the Castle of Bogarru, where the giant lives. The Funny Man told you wrong."

"Told me wrong!" repeated the poor Prince, now thoroughly discouraged.

"Yes," said the monkey, "for a joke, you know. Oh, my beautiful brass tail! What a world this is!"

"This is the very worst and meanest joke of the whole!" cried the Prince.

He shivered at the idea of being once more near the castle of the terrible giant; and then he remembered the weary miles he had travelled that day under the burning sun, and thinking of these things he could have wept with right good-will, had it not been that the brass monkey had already made quite a pool of tears, and Vance was afraid of causing a flood.

"You must go back the way you came," said the monkey, wringing the tears from its handkerchief. "It will take you longer than it did to come, because now it will be night. At daybreak you will see three silver birches in a meadow; then climb the hedge and follow a row of large white stones till you come to a green stile; after this the path is straight to the Crushed Strawberry Wizard's door. You cannot miss it."

"If this is true," said the Prince, "I am a thousand times obliged to you. But are you quite certain that this, too, is not a joke?"

"Oh, my jointed brass body!" cried the monkey, mournfully. "Now, do I look like a joker? I never made a joke in my life, never."

"I should be only too glad," said the Prince, as he turned to go, "to do something to cheer you up, if I might."

"Oh, no!" wailed the monkey; "nobody can do anything. Besides, I like to be miserable; it is the only comfort I have. Go! it is getting darker every minute. Oh, my brass toes and fingers, what a world this is!"

At this the monkey wept so violently that Vance had to give up all idea of thanking him or even of saying good-by; so he contented himself by turning and hastening back along the path by which he had come.