er kept no watch
upon it, nor put it under lock and key, for the Plough recognised no
voice but his own, nor went nor came save at his bidding. In the night
Noodle would go down to the shed or field where it lay, and whistle to
it, trying to put forth notes of the same magical power as those which
came through the farmer's lips.

But no sound that came from his lips ever stroked life into its silver
sides. The year was nearly run out, and Noodle was in despair.

Then he remembered the firestone ring, the Sweetener. 'May be,' said
he, 'since it changes to sweetness whatever I eat and drink, it will
sweeten my voice also, so that the Plough will obey.' So he put the
ring between his lips and whistled; and at the sound his heart turned
a somersault for joy, for he felt that out of his mouth the farmer's
magic had been over-topped and conquered.

The Galloping Plough stirred faintly from the furrow where it lay,
breaking the ground and marring its smooth course. Then it shook its
head slowly, and returned impassively to rest.

In the morning the farmer came and saw the broken earth close under
the Plough's nose. Noodle, hiding among the corn hard by, heard him
say, 'What hast thou heard in the night, O my moonbeam, my miracle,
that thy lily-foot has trodden up the ground? Hast thou forgotten
whose hand feeds thee, whose corn it is thou lovest, whose heart's
care also cherishes thee?'

The farmer went away, and presently came back bearing a bowl of corn;
and Noodle saw the Plough lift its head to its master's palm, and feed
like a horse on the grain.

Then Noodle, gay of heart, waited till it was night, and surely his
time was short, for on the morrow his wages were to be paid, and the
Plough was to be his, or else he was to be the farmer's bondservant
for the rest of his life. He took with him three handfuls of corn, and
went down to where the Plough stood waiting by the furrow. Shaping his
lips to the ring, he whistled gently like a lover, and immediately the
Plough stirred, and lifted up its head as if to look at him.

'O my moonbeam, my miracle,' whispered Noodle, 'wilt thou not come to
the one that feeds thee?' and he held out a handful of corn. But the
Plough gave no regard to him or his grain: slowly it moved away from
him back into the furrow.

Then Noodle laughed softly and dropped his ring, the Sweetener, into
the hand that held the grain; and barely had he offered the corn
before he felt the silver Ploug