d to be seen."

"What!" says the man. "If there were a bird that you could see, I
should not shoot at it. A bird or a beast a thousand versts away,
that's the sort of mark for me."

"Take your seat with us," says the Fool.

The man sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together.
Louder and louder rose their songs.

They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a
sack full of bread on his back.

"Good health to you, uncle," says the Fool, sailing down. "And where
are you off to?"

"I am going to get bread for my dinner."

"But you've got a full sack on your back."

"That--that little scrap! Why, that's not enough for a single
mouthful."

"Take your seat with us," says the Fool.

The Eater sat down with them in the ship, and they flew on together,
singing louder than ever.

They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking
round and round a lake.

"Good health to you, uncle," says the Fool. "What are you looking
for?"

"I want a drink, and I can't find any water."

"But there's a whole lake in front of your eyes. Why can't you take a
drink from that?"

"That little drop!" says the man. "Why, there's not enough water there
to wet the back of my throat if I were to drink it at one gulp."

"Take your seat with us," says the Fool.

The Drinker sat down with them, and again they flew on, singing in
chorus.

They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man walking
towards the forest, with a fagot of wood on his shoulders.

"Good-day to you, uncle," says the Fool. "Why are you taking wood to
the forest?"

"This isn't simple wood," says the man.

"What is it, then?" says the Fool.

"If it is scattered about, a whole army of soldiers leaps up out of
the ground."

"There's a place for you with us," says the Fool.

The man sat down with them, and the ship rose up into the air, and
flew on, carrying its singing crew.

They flew on and on, and looked down, and there was a man carrying a
sack of straw.

"Good health to you, uncle," says the Fool; "and where are you taking
your straw?"

"To the village."

"Why, are they short of straw in your village?"

"No; but this is such straw that if you scatter it abroad in the very
hottest of the summer, instantly the weather turns cold, and there is
snow and frost."

"There's a place here for you too," says the Fool.

"Very kind of you," says the man, and steps in and sits down, and away
they a