and a new fear seized her lest despair should come over her son again. Then she took her boy in her arms and carried him out of the Water Demon's hall. She passed through the frog's gate, up the narrow stairs between the crystal walls, to the top of the lake, and never stopped till she reached the green bank. On the green bank she laid her dear burden—laid her Yanechek—on the soft grass, sat down by the dear boy, stroked his face and said sweet words to him. But the wicked Yanechek lay there with a gloomy scowling face, never answering his mother, and turning his eyes constantly on the ground. But when Dorothy began to tell him how she had plaited a nine-fold rope of bast for the Water Demon, how she had watched for him, how she had caught and fastened him near the oven, the face of Yanechek gained more colour than through the fresh air, and his eyes sparkled more brightly than from the soft, sweet kisses of his mother.
"And is the Water Demon still fastened to the oven?" demanded Yanechek, springing to his feet.
"Yes," answered his mother. "The Water Demon cannot break the nine-fold bast rope, nor can he untie the knot."
"Have you the sharp axe still at home?" again asked Yanechek.
"Yes; but what do you want with it?"
