So the soldier’s son thanked the tigress and set off with the box to find his fortune. Now when he had gone five miles, he felt certain that the box weighed more than it had at first, and every step he took it seemed to grow heavier and heavier. He tried to struggle onthough it was all he could do to carry the boxuntil he had gone about eight miles and a quarter, when his patience gave way. 'I believe that tigress was a witch and is playing off her tricks upon me,' he cried, 'but I will stand this nonsense no longer. Lie there, You wretched old box!heaven knows what is in you, and I don't care.'
So saying, he flung the box down on the ground: it burst open with the shock, and put stepped a little old man. He was only one span high, but his beard was a span and a quarter long, and trailed upon the ground.
The little mannikin immediately began to stamp about and scold the lad roundly for letting the box down so violently.
'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son, scareely able to restrain a smile at the ridiculous little figure 'but you are weighty for your size, old gentlemen! And what may your name be?'
'Sir Buzz!' snapped the one-span mannikin, still stamping about in a great rage.
'Upon my word!' quoth the soldier's son once more, 'if you are all the box contained, I am glad I didn't trouble to carry it farther.'
'That's not polite,' snarled the mannikin; 'Perhaps if you had carried it the full nine miles you might have found something better; but that's neither
