"Then we must go and fetch it," said Jack with a sudden burst of
energy. "You must come and show me where it is."

"Let us go at once," said Jill, "while the Witch is out. I know the
spell to open the doors. We must take a pail to put the water in."

So she went into the dusty, dirty kitchen and found a pail, and then
she and Jack set off to climb the glaring village street.

They passed some of the villagers. They all looked as brown and dirty
and thin as Jack.

"Where are you going?" they called after the children.

"To fetch a pail of water," answered Jack.

Poor Jack was so thin and tired, and Jill so hot and thirsty that they
were forced to stop many times on their way up the hill.

At last they reached the Witch's cottage.

"Abracadabra," called out Jill, and they both entered the house through
the window with the pail between them.

"Come along," said Jill, "she may come in at any minute." So they ran
to the corner of the kitchen.

"Lift up the floor
And open door,"

cried Jill, and they went down the steps.

Jack was so tired that he could hardly stand, but when he saw the casks
he clapped his hands.

"Quick," he cried, "Abracadabra!"

"What have you done?" called out Jill the next minute. "You said
Abracadabra to the thunder-storm cask. They will all be surging out in
a minute! Oh, dear! oh, dear! See, _this_ is the drinking-water cask.

"Abracadabra!"

The lid slid open.

She dipped the pail in. "You must not stop to drink now," she said.
"Come quickly before the thunder-storms pour out." And without
thinking what she was doing, she ran back, past all the casks, saying,
"Abracadabra," as quickly as ever she could. Then, with the full pail
in her hand, she stumbled up the steps, and Jack after her. She did
not wait to shut the trap-door, but ran out of the house half-way down
the hill.

Jack tottered after her.

"I must have a drink," he said.

He caught hold of the handle of the pail, and was about to dip in his
head when----

Flash! flash! across the sky came the lightning, and then a deafening
roar of thunder.

"It's the old Witch!" he cried, dropping the handle of the pail again.

"It's the thunder-storms tumbling out of the cask," said Jill, letting
go of her side of the pail too.

They started to run on home, but Jack caught his foot in the handle of
the pail as it rolled down the hill. He fell headlong, cutting his
head on a stone in the pathway. Jill