oon
drew out their shadows over the short grass till they were as long as
the great stones of Stonehenge.

At last they turned the hill, and the fairy ring looked dark under the
moon, and the farmer's son blessed himself that they were passing it
quietly, when Limping Tim suddenly pulled his cloak from his back, and
handing it to his companion, cried, "Hold this for a moment, will you?
I'm wanted. They're calling for me."

"I hear nothing," said the farmer's son. But before he had got the
words out of his mouth, the fiddler had completely disappeared. He
shouted aloud, but in vain, and had begun to think of proceeding on
his way, when the fiddler's voice cried, "Catch!" and there came,
flying at him from the direction of the fairy ring, the bundle of
marketings which the fiddler had been carrying.

"It's in my way," he then heard the fiddler cry. "Ah, this is dancing!
Come in, my lad, come in!"

But the farmer's son was not totally without prudence, and he took
good care to keep at a safe distance from the fairy ring.

"Come back, Tim! Come back!" he shouted, and, receiving no answer, he
adjured his friend to break the bonds that withheld him, and return to
the right way, as wisely as one man can counsel another.

After talking for some time to no purpose, he again heard his friend's
voice, crying, "Take care of it for me! The money dances out of my
pocket." And therewith the fiddler's purse was hurled to his feet,
where it fell with a heavy chinking of gold within.

He picked it up, and renewed his warnings and entreaties, but in vain;
and, after waiting for a long time, he made the best of his way home
alone, hoping that the fiddler would follow, and come to reclaim his
property.

The fiddler never came. And when at last there was a fuss about his
disappearance, the farmer's son, who had but a poor spirit, began to
be afraid to tell the truth of the matter. "Who knows but they may
accuse me of theft?" said he. So he hid the cloak, and the bundle,
and the money-bag in the garden.

But when three months passed, and still the fiddler did not return, it
was whispered that the farmer's son had been his last companion; and
the place was searched, and they found the cloak, and the bundle, and
the money-bag and the lad was taken to prison.

Now, when it was too late, he plucked up a spirit, and told the truth;
but no one believed him, and it was said that he had murdered the
fiddler for the sake of his money and