e started on his way. The man with the bellows jumped down from
his bucket and ran eagerly after him. He was a simple-looking man, with
a large and frog-like mouth.

"It creeps in the family," he whispered hoarsely to the Prince.

"What does?"

"Laziness. If it were anything else, you know, you'd say it _ran_ in the
family. But wait till you see Gobbo!"

Just then he noticed that Loto was growing quite limp and purple in the
face for want of breath; so he hastily scrambled back to his bucket, and
once more began to blow for dear life and a groat a day.

"By the way," asked Vance, halting, "do you know where the Crushed
Strawberry Wizard lives?"

"He knows," replied the blower, "but you can't get it out of him. He's
too lazy to speak; so it's no manner of use fretting about it."

With a sigh of weariness and disgust the royal wayfarer turned away and
went on his journey. Just at dusk he reached a small village, or rather
a group of poor little houses; and as he was about to knock at the door
of one to ask for shelter, he saw a procession coming over the fields.
There were a number of men with flaring torches, one or two with picks
and spades, while in the midst was carried a bier upon which lay a man
with his eyes wide open, staring straight ahead.

[Illustration]

"What's all this?" the Prince asked of one who seemed of some authority
in the company.

"We are going to bury Gobbo," replied the man.

"But he isn't dead yet," exclaimed Vance, quite horrified.

"True," the man returned, in a matter-of-fact tone, "but he does not
care about living. I know, for he's hired me to think for him these ten
years. Now I'm tired of it, and so I think it's best to bury him; and of
course it's all the same as if he thought so himself."

"Well," said Vance, who was beginning to grow badly confused by the odd
people he encountered, "if he doesn't mind I'm sure I don't know why I
should. But perhaps before he is buried he can tell me where to find the
Crushed Strawberry Wizard."

"He won't take the trouble to remember," answered the man, "and I'm sure
I'll do no more thinking for him."

"Well," was the thought with which the unlucky Vance consoled himself,
"it is something to have seen the laziest man on earth."

VIII

He found an empty hut, in which was some mouldy straw; and there he
passed the night, sleeping as soundly as if he had been on his own royal
bed of down in the palace at home. His breakfast was