observed that the, grass partly hid a gloomy abyss, from the bottom of which there rose a stone, and on it lay a small jar. As he looked and listened the hunter heard a small voice crying,—
"Dear, kind traveller, release me!"
The voice seemed to proceed from the little jar. The courageous hunter, walking carefully from one stone to another, approached the spot where the jar lay, took it up gently, and heard a voice crying from within like the chirping of a grasshopper,—
"Release me, and I will be of service to you."
"Who are you, my little friend?" asked Huntsman the Unlucky.
"I have no name, and cannot be seen by human eyes," answered a soft voice. "If you want me, call 'Murza!' A wicked magician put me in this jar, sealed it with the seal of King Solomon, and then threw me into this fearful place, where I have lain for seventy years."
"Very good," said Huntsman the Unlucky; "I will give you your liberty, and then we shall see how you will keep your word." He broke the seal and opened the little jar—there was nothing in it!
"Halloa! where are you, my friend?" cried the hunter.
"By your side," a voice answered.
