nd rustle the paper.'

So the young man put the letter in his pocket, and walked all day over
the hills till he reached a little turf hut, exactly like the other two.

'Let me in, I pray you, dear mother,' cried he. And as he entered he
added: 'Here is a letter from your sister and--can you tell me anything
of the Sister of the Sun?'

'Yes, I can,' answered the old woman. 'She lives in the castle on the
Banka. Her father lost a battle only a few days ago because you had
stolen his sword from him, and the Sister of the Sun herself is almost
dead of grief. But, when you see her, stick a pin into the palm of her
hand, and suck the drops of blood that flow. Then she will grow calmer,
and will know you again. Only, beware; for before you reach the castle
on the Banka fearful things will happen.'

He thanked the old woman with tears of gladness for the good news she
had given him, and continued his journey. But he had not gone very
far when, at a turn of the road, he met with two brothers, who were
quarrelling over a piece of cloth.

'My good men, what are you fighting about?' said he. 'That cloth does
not look worth much!'

'Oh, it is ragged enough,' answered they, 'but it was left us by our
father, and if any man wraps it round him no one can see him; and we
each want it for our own.'

'Let me put it round me for a moment,' said the youth, 'and then I will
tell you whose it ought to be!'

The brothers were pleased with this idea, and gave him the stuff;
but the moment he had thrown it over his shoulder he disappeared as
completely as if he had never been there at all.

Meanwhile the young man walked briskly along, till he came up with two
other men, who were disputing over a table-cloth.

'What is the matter?' asked he, stopping in front of them.

'If this cloth is spread on a table,' answered they, 'the table is
instantly covered with the most delicious food; and we each want to have
it.'

'Let me try the table-cloth,' said the youth, 'and I will tell you whose
it ought to be.'

The two men were quite pleased with this idea, and handed him the cloth.
He then hastily threw the first piece of stuff round his shoulders and
vanished from sight, leaving the two men grieving over their own folly.

The young man had not walked far before he saw two more men standing
by the road-side, both grasping the same stout staff, and sometimes one
seemed on the point of getting it, and sometimes the other.

'What are you