Being the Further Adventures of the Maker of Ghosts and the Maker of Shadows.
HE maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows had little to do in the way of preparation on leaving the capital of Common-Sense. Their ghost and shadow samples were done up in brown-paper parcels, while their breeches pockets bulged with the common-sense they had gained. From the first they had made up their minds to adopt a straightforward policy; so straight forward they went, and that took them on the road to Puzzledom.
After walking the greater part of the day they got into a fog, which gradually became denser, and at last rose like a wall before them. The highway ended abruptly; but they groped forward until they were brought up by what seemed to be the bottom rung of a huge ladder.
“Hem!” exclaimed the maker of shadows, “skywards, eh? I′ll venture a little way up!”
He had only climbed a step or two, however, when down he came with a run.
“What's the matter?” asked the maker of ghosts anxiously.
“Why,” things are not what they seem, “as the poet says. There are the steps plain enough apparently, but when I went to take hold of them I pawed the air and seemed to lose my footing in the fog. I believe the ladder′s bewitched!”
“I′ll tell you what!” cried the other. “We′re beyond the bounds of Common-Sense. But it is late; let us, therefore, rest to-night where we are, and in the morning very likely the mist may be gone.”
This sensible advice was acted upon. Curling themselves up in shadows to keep off the damp, they slept soundly until a loud " Cock- a-doodle-doo! " awoke them.
" That sounded like a good honest crow," said the maker of ghosts. " But was it the voice of a Common-Sense fowl? "
“I can’t tell,” said he ‘of the shadows; “but I do know that I’m hungry. Let us eat, and leave exploring until afterwards.”
So they sat down to breakfast. Now, just as they had finished they heard someone coming, and as he came he sang:
“Twisted himself into a note of interrogation.”
“Who: to Puzzledom would get,
Caius epistolam scribet;
He or she, or it, or that,
Balbus carmen cantabat,
Has to find a guide and key,
X Y Z and W V:
Rich or poor, whoe′er you be,
U T S and R Q P.
Mind you come in time for tea.
Twenty-seven′s the cube of three.
If you′re wise you′ll come before.
Sixteen is the square of—Hello!”
“Good-morning,” said the maker of ghosts. “Will you kindly direct us to Puzzledom?”
“Willingly,” replied the Puzzler. “Bisect the foot of the ladder, which makes the first declension; the inflatus of the hypothenuse of its parabolic curve should give the centre of the square.” He paused, and then added: “Pardon me, I see that you are strangers: with your permission I will call a key-spook.”
And, having done so, the obliging Puzzler wished them a pleasant journey.
They turned to the spook. That worthy carried a large bunch of keys at his girdle. His nature was simple and confiding; he was, in fact, so plain and transparent that you could easily see through him. Never for a moment still, he fidgeted about, tying his arms and legs into knots, and then untying them again. And now he said nothing, but twisted himself into a note of interrogation.
“Puzzledom,” said the maker of ghosts promptly.
The spook nodded, and producing from his girdle the key to the situation, he led the two friends on until, the mist clearing, they saw, at a short distance before them, the town of Puzzledom. They closely followed their guide along a maze-like path, where high trees on every side hid the landscape. Sometimes the party had to return upon their steps. Sometimes they trod underground passages; but at last, after going through a longer tunnel than usual, they suddenly saw daylight and stepped into the middle of the market-place.
This fine square resolved the mystery of ages, for philosophers have always held that it is impossible to square the circle. Here was a circle squared, for the eye could not tell whether this large space was a circle or a square.
The number of Puzzlers to be seen was quite astonishing. Collected in groups of twos and threes, they eagerly asked or tried to solve riddles. Of these there were many sorts; and it was the occupation of some to sift the riddles just as it is the occupation of others elsewhere to sift thistles.
But the key-spook had twisted himself into a note of interrogation again, and the maker of ghosts asked him if he knew of any place where they could stay, as the town seemed so full. He looked perplexed, then, having stood on his head to collect his ideas, said:
“I think I know of a ground-gnome,
Within whose house you'd feel at home.”
“The very thing,” said the two friends; “lead on, Mr, Spook, we follow.”
Their guide took from his bunch another key, and opened a subterranean door. The passage in which they now found themselves was large enough for them to stand upright in. A short way off they saw a glimmer of light: here was the house of the ground-gnome.
Reaching the end of the passage, the spook tapped at a door, when a voice bade them enter. So doing, they passed into a cheerful room filled with the soft light of innumerable glow-worms.
The ground-gnome was a comfortable fatherly body, and he agreed to accommodate the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows for a moderate quantity of common-sense. Both he and the spook showed quite an interest in the strangers, and made free—in a kindly way—to ask them their object in coming to Puzzledom.
So they said they were seeking their fortunes, that they had got a good deal of common-sense, but hardly knew what to do next.
Hearing this, the spook got quite excited, tied his limbs in the most astonishing knots, and at length said to the ground gnome:
“Mustard-pot and pepper-castor,
What about your worthy master?”
“The ground-gnome began to muzzle the dogs” (p. 27).
“True,” said their host; and then he explained, “I am an attendant-gnome, you know, and wait upon my master, Sir Oracle. Now, he is so wise that no doubt he could tell you what to do next. Mr. Spook is quite right, and you couldn’t do better than consult him.”
“And if,” put in the friendly spook eagerly,
“In his advice you don’t agree,
You need not pay his moderate fee!”
“Well, what do you think?” said the maker of shadows to his friend.
“Why, we’ve profited so much by wise advice in the past, and this is such a fair suggestion that I think we’d better accept it. Pray where does Sir Oracle live, and when could we see him?”
“Oh, he’s to be seen now, I expect,” said the ground-gnome. “If you like, I’ll take you to his house at once.”
And the obliging spook said—
“Until your footsteps you retrace,
I’ll be custodian of the place.”
So the three set out together.
The house they sought was in a retired side-street. In front was a portico supported by four pillars, and to each pillar a dog was chained. The first dog was white, the second black, the third spotted, and the fourth striped. Over the portico was written in large letters—
“I am Sir Oracle, and When I Speak Let no Dog Bark.”
The ground-gnome began to muzzle the dogs one after another, and whilst he did so the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows sent in their cards.
They were shown into Sir Oracle′s study, which was built of india-rubber to ensure perfect quiet. Having made known their wishes, the learned individual pondered a few moments, then wrung his hands, and the ground-gnome answering the summons, he said briefly—
“Wind me up, if you please.”
The ground-gnome dipped a large towel in water, squeezed it out, and wound it round his master′s head. By his side he placed a cup of the strongest coffee and his long pipe ready to his hand. Then, motioning to the maker of ghosts and his friend, they all retired, and left the sage to his meditations.
“When the wisdom begins to ooze from every pore,” explained the ground-gnome, ”Sir Oracle will smoke; as he smokes the wisdom will enter the smoke wreaths, and you can then take down the message in writing.”
They waited outside on the doormat; every now and again the attendant-gnome put his eye to the keyhole. At length he beckoned and whispered, “Enter, and take the answer.”
So the two went in on tiptoe alone. It was an impressive sight. There sat Sir Oracle, the empty cup before him, his eyes closed, and the smoke wreaths from the first whiff hovering above his head until it settled on the ceiling in the form of a word. So smoke wreath succeeded smoke wreath and word word, until the answer was there plainly to be read—
“Who′d Fortune woo
Must have these two—
Common-sense,
Experience.”
After taking down the rhyme, the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows looked again at the ceiling—it was bare; they glanced at Sir Oracle—he slept. So they withdrew on tiptoe as they had entered.
“Well,” said the attendant-gnome, “how did you get on? Ah, yes,” he continued, when the rhyme was shown to him, “you’ll have to work in the Mines of Experience.”
“But where are the mines, and how do we get there?” asked the maker of shadows anxiously.
“Oh, my master’s fee includes a ticket of admission to the mines, but if you take his advice you have hard work before you.”
“The advice is wise,” said the two friends, “and we gladly accept it.”
“Pluckily spoken,” replied the attendant-gnome; “and now I‘ll unmuzzle the dogs so that they may bark approval.’’
Which they did, and made the welkin ring.
A few days passed in uneventful travelling, and then the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows knew by the look of the country that they were close to the Mines of Experience.
Here and there notices appeared, such as—
“TO BE SOLD CHEAP.
BANKRUPT STOCK. RARE OLD EXPERIENCE.”
“A FEW GOOD WAREHOUSES TO LET FOR STORING
EXPERIENCE.”
“WANTED, NEW EXPERIENCE BY A MINOR.”
“USE THE SAFETY-LAMPS OF PATIENCE AND HOPE.
NONE OTHERS GENUINE.”
And now, having reached the end of their journey, the two friends gave up their ticket and determined to get to work at once on the common-sense principle of “Don’t put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day.” Having, therefore, changed their clothes for miners’ dress, they took basket, pick, and safety-lamp and sought the mouth of the shaft.
The descent was by means of upright ladders, five-and-twenty in number; and the lower down they got, the more difficult was their progress. The walls of the shaft dripped with moisture, and the rungs of the ladders were often damp and slippery. Now and then, too, a rung was missing, so that they had to be very careful of their footsteps. When they reached the level ground at the bottom of the shaft they rested awhile to get their breath, and, as they did so, watched their fellow-miners busily at work. Then they set out in a straightforward direction as usual. They went a long way, their object being to get beyond the crowd and strike some fresh and rare experience for them- selves.
Having reached an out-of-the-way part of the mine, they began to use their picks on some splendid-looking ore. It was very hard work indeed, and they spent the greater part of the day in their efforts. Then, shouldering their well-filled oaskets, they started for the bottom of the shaft.
After they had gone some way—
“Hello!” exclaimed the maker of ghosts, who was leading, “here are two passages. Which shall we take?”
“Oh!” said the other, “this one, to be sure, as it leads straight forward.”
“Hem!” said the maker of ghosts, “I thought myself the other straight forward; but on second thoughts, no doubt you are correct.”
So the two plodded on. But some distance further, again two passages showed themselves. The maker of shadows looked puzzled.
“I’m afraid we’re getting a little mixed,” he observed.
“No,” replied the ghost maker; “this is evidently the straight forward path. We shall be at the foot of the shaft directly, you'll see.”
Still they plodded on, and still no sign of the bottom of the shaft.
“I don’t hear a sound,” said the shadow maker. “Hadn’t we better go back?”
“Perhaps we had,” replied the maker of ghosts, “though I don’t like to be beaten.”
But alas! their efforts only ended in weariness and disappointment. To crown their misfortunes both their lamps went out, and thus they were left in the dark and completely lost.
“How foolish we were not to bring a few candles with us!” said the maker of ghosts. “How foolish we were to come so far and trust to our wits without even a plan of the mines, which, I daresay, we could have easily got!” They shouted for help, but the echoes seemed only to mock them. Time passed: they were hoarse with calling, and knew not what to do. They had nothing to eat and nothing to drink. Afraid to move for fear of falling into some unknown pit, afraid to stay still lest they should slowly starve to death, their plight was indeed terrible. 
“Danced with glee.”
Just when they were at their wits’ end they thought they could see afar the faint glimmer of a light. Nearer it came and nearer, and then, to their amazement, an old and yellow dwarf stood before them. He was dressed in knee breeches, a dress coat, and scarlet waistcoat. He wore a pigtail, and his head was covered with a fool’s cap of vivid green, surmounted by a firefly lantern. He looked at them narrowly, and then danced with glee, chanting in a shrill voice the while—
“Lost, ha, ha! Lost, ho ho!
They can’t tell which way to go!”
“Yes,” said the maker of ghosts sadly, “we are indeed lost. Good sir, will you kindly direct us to the bottom of the shaft?” The dwarf still danced, but to a different tune.
“Lost, lost, lost, lost!
What will not your experience cost?
What have you got, and what will you pay
The yellow dwarf if he shows you the way?”
The maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows offered him their baskets. He pounced eagerly upon their contents, then pulled a wry face and fell to dancing again.
“This is no good! If you'd go hence
Fork out a peck of common-sense!”
“All right, good sir,” said the maker of shadows. “Guide us to within sight of the bottom of the shaft and you shall be paid in full.” The dwarf hesitated, though he still kept up dance and chant.
“Nothing venture, nothing win!
Oh! what a plight these two are in?
Then he became more serious, saying—
“Agreed, agreed!
Follow my lead.”
The dwarf went on so rapidly that the maker of ghosts and his friend had much ado to keep him in sight. However, after a long time of doubling and twisting, they gained the bottom of the shaft, although they could not have told it in the dark had not their hands grasped the ladders.
Directly they had paid their strange guide disappeared, and the two friends had to wait until morning, when their fellow-miners descended with their lamps, before they could see their way to regain the surface of the earth. But when they showed their dearly bought ore to an experience dealer, he said it was too common to be worth anything!
Well, the two friends felt very mortified, but it was no use to be discouraged. They laid out some common-sense in a good plan of the mines, and then hurried off to the mouth of the shaft again. By this time the morning was well advanced, and they made all the haste they could in descending the ladders.
They got as far as the twenty-fifth, when the maker of ghosts, who was leading, missed his footing and fell plump down the rest of the way. His friend, who, in his haste, followed too close behind him, slipped also and shared the same fate, so that both lay sprawling on the ground, badly bruised and shaken.
Their heavy fall dislodged some of the ore in the side of the shaft, and they managed to fill one of their baskets with it; but, on trying to stand, they found that they were so badly hurt that they had to shout for help. They were hoisted with difficulty to the mouth of the shaft and taken to the hospital. There they had to stay for a whole weary month, being, indeed, fortunate to have escaped with so little injury.
“His friend … slipped also”
(p. 31)
During this time they got someone to take a sample of the ore to the experience dealer for his opinion.
“What is it worth?—That!” said the honest man, snapping his fingers.
They now felt so very doleful that the doctor going his rounds noticed it, and asked what troubled them. They told him.
“You can’t complain that you have not got any experience now,” said he, with a smile, “only you've not got the right sort. Still, you’ve secured a plan of the mines, and you'll probably be more careful in future, and not be so sparing in the way of common-sense. By-the-bye, what picks and spades do you use?”
They told him, and he gravely shook his head, remarking—
“Oh, there’s no common-sense in them: you must have better, in order to succeed.” And he passed on.
Altogether this month of idleness was a gain to them, for it made them think, and they determined that they would go to work more wisely in future.
On the day they left the hospital and returned to their lodgings they found that someone had been inquiring about them. As they were wondering who it could be they heard a tap at the door, and—who should enter but the ground-gnome!
“I only arrived to-day,” he said. “Well, how are you getting on? Fairly on the road to fortune?”
Of course they had to own their failure and tell him of their accident.
“But,” they asked, ”how came you to be here?”
“Oh, I wanted a holiday, and as Sir Oracle consented to spare me, I thought I might as well come and join you if you will allow me.”
They were all of them thoughtful for a time.
“Yes,” said the ground-gnome, following out his train of ideas, “to get the right sort of experience is not always easy. Now, I ought to know a good deal about underground ways, and if——”
He paused without concluding the sentence.
“If what?” asked the maker of ghosts.
“Oh,” returned the other with a smile, “I was only wishing that we could come across the yellow dwarf.”
“What?” cried both his hearers together.
“Why, the dwarfs, you know, are splendid miners; they’ve got all the best experience.”
The maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows rapidly related their adventure.
“Well, now,” said the ground-gnome, “your experience may not prove so dear after all. The thing is to hit on a plan. The dwarfs only work at night, and vanish at daybreak. What we want is to find out where they work. Let’s see—one of you is by occupation a maker of ghosts and the other a maker of shadows? I thought as much. Can either of you crow? Very good: I’ll tell you my idea; then let us three lay our heads together, and for once, I think, we’ll astonish the yellow dwarf.”
Several days were now spent by the three in laying their plans. The maker of ghosts made a large cock, the maker of shadows a big dark shadow, whilst the ground-gnome saw to his glow-worms, looked out two pairs of goloshes, put up some small tins of compressed food essence, polished the lamps, picks and spades, and got ready three large strong baskets. One special item of the preparations was a length of fine but strong silken cord. Now, this was their plan. They proposed to descend the shaft just before sunset and go to the gallery first worked by the maker of ghosts and his friend. From this as a starting-place they would try to find the passage in which they met the yellow dwarf. Likely enough it would prove a difficult task, nor was it probable that the plan of the mines would be here of much use; hence the wise precaution of bringing with them the silken cord, which they would unwind as they went along, having fixed one end at the starting-point, so that it would be an unerring clue to finding their way back again. The gallery reached, the maker of ghosts would pretend to be lost and shout for help, when they hoped that the yellow dwarf would be within hearing. The shadow was brought to conceal them if necessary, and the ghost of a cock by way of precaution, as it is well known that the underground dwarfs cannot endure Chanticleer and his shrill summons. All being ready, the three made a hearty meal, and at the appointed time descended the shaft. They had little difficulty in finding the place where they had got their first experience, and then carefully made fast the end of the silken cord. That done, the maker of ghosts led the way, whilst the others, having put on their goloshes, to deaden the sound of their footsteps, followed under cover of the made shadow. After they had gone some distance, their leader paused and held up his hand. They listened, and found they could hear the sound of falling water. They were on the wrong road evidently, so went back again, rewinding the silk as they went.
Well, they made a good many trials—so many, indeed, that they were almost ready to give it up in despair. Time pressed, and as yet they had done nothing. At last, by a lucky chance, they struck the familiar gallery. Some distance along they came to a halt ; the maker of ghosts advanced a few steps, put out his lamp, and began shouting for help. The others waited behind, completely hidden by the thick shadow.
Sure enough, after a great deal of shouting, a distant glimmer of light gladdened their eyes, and by-and-by, the yellow dwarf himself appeared with a pick under his arm, and clothed in his familiar dress His sharp little eyes glanced here and there, but, of course, he could only see the maker of ghosts, to whom he gave a facetious poke with the pick handle and began to chant as usual—
“Oh! what a painful sight! ’Tis plain
The gentleman is lost again.
Little Jane’s uncle, and Jack’s papa,
With a whobblechick wagstep and ha, ha, ha!
What have you got, and what will you pay
The yellow dwarf to show you the way?”
“In spite of his protests, they bore him off.”
The little man gave an ugly leer and said—
“Add to that a bushel of sense,
Mixed with the best experience;
Else for ever in slavery groan,
For I’ll have ye, and work ye to skin and bone.
With a rum-tum-ti, and a rum-tum-toe,
A tee-to-tum, and a ho, ho, ho!”
And he burst into peals of laughter, dancing and snapping his long bony fingers. Then, calling some of his men about him, he pointed to the maker of ghosts, saying—
“A trespasser who cannot pay;
Seize him, and carry him away.”
And, in spite of his protests, they bore him off, raising as they did so a shout of “Nepo! Nepo! Nepo!” A door opened in the wall. The dwarf and their prisoner entered, and it closed again with a bang, the echoes of which reverberated along the narrow galleries like distant thunder. The maker of shadows and the ground-gnome hurried up, but just too late to enter. They stared at each other. Here was a pretty kettle of fish!
They groped carefully along the gallery wall, but there was no sign of a door. They went down on their hands and knees; not a crack met their finger tips. Then they searched diligently with their lights. There was one place in the floor that looked a little worn; and on tap- ping ever so gently on the wall above, the sound seemed a bit more hollow. Even, however, if this were something more than fancy, it did not help them much. What was to be done?
They sat down and fell to serious consideration. Had anything been said that might afford a clue? The yellow dwarf’s rhymes seemed part sense, part nonsense, and nothing that he had said sounded likely to be of any use, though his recalled malice added to their fears.
“What was it they called out as they led him away?” asked the ground-gnome.
“Why, ne—ne—something or other—yes, I have it, ‘Nepo,’” replied the maker of shadows; “but what sense is there in that? Was it the name of someone, do you think?”
“Hem!” said the ground-gnome thoughtfully. “‘Nepo’, backwards, is ‘Open,’ and they repeated it three times. I‘ll tell you what: it’s a password like ‘Open sesame’—probably ‘Nepo’ to go in, and ‘Open’ to come out! Let’s try it.”
So they said softly, just above the seemingly worn floor, “Nepo, nepo, nepo!” and behold! the concealed door in the wall slowly opened, and they went in. Then, lest it should close again with a bang, one of them propped it ajar with the spare lantern.
It was a crooked passage in which they now stood, and it gave them, fortunately, an opportunity for hiding themselves in their shadow. They hurried along some distance, their goloshes making no noise, until, by-and-by, they caught sight of a distant light and heard sounds of merriment.
The crooked passage ended in a large cavern, which had been mined in every direction by the industrious dwarfs. It was now full of the small people. They had formed a ring, hand in hand, and danced to a merry tune. In their midst was the maker of ghosts; his coat was off, and he was already hard at work wielding his pick with might and main at a hole in the ground, while at his feet was a growing heap of experience. The sweat poured from his brow with his exertions, yet if he stopped but a moment to rest, the dwarf king beat him with a knotted whip. There was not the slightest doubt that he was carrying 
“He was already
hard at work”
(Pp. 36).
out his promise to make a slave of the maker of ghosts and work him to “skin and bone.”
Suddenly a shadow dimmed the lights! The dancing instantly stopped, and with a dread of some impending danger the scared dwarfs crowded hurriedly together. To their horror the shade was followed by a huge cock, which flapped its wings and crowed most lustily “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”
Out went all the lights, and, with shrill cries of alarm, the yellow dwarf and his subjects vanished.
The maker of shadows and the ground-gnome hurried to the side of the maker of ghosts. He was much exhausted, but after a time he revived, and then the maker of shadows and the ground-gnome set to work with their picks and shovels to fill their baskets with the experience.
When they had got as much as they could carry, they prepared to go; but, on looking for the passage which they came in by, they found there were a dozen zigzag passages, all just alike! The silk cord would have told them in a moment what they wanted to know, but, unfortunately, they had dropped it in their excitement. Down on their hands and knees they went, and, having now so much experience, they were not long in finding the ball of silk. Hastening down the right passage, which seemed much longer than before, they discovered that the lantern had been moved and the entrance door was fast shut!
The maker of ghosts was in a terrible state of alarm, because, you see, his nerves had suffered so much. The ground-gnome too was agitated, and in vain repeated “Nepo, nepo, nepo!” for the door still remained closed. Fortunately, the maker of shadows had his wits about him and cried, “Open, open, open!” Whereupon the door in the wall did open, they went out quickly, and got home just before sunrise.
The whole of the day they devoted to sleep, but in the evening once more started for the dwarf’s cavern. They arrived at the place where they had first fastened the silk, but found that the ball had been carried off and where before there had been only four passages there were now twenty. The dwarfs had indeed been busy.
So the three wisely gave up further search as likely to be useless, and, returning to the mouth of the shaft, went to the bank where they had placed their experience and took a fair sample of it to the market. All the dealers to whom they showed it said it was of excellent quality, but, to be thoroughly satisfied, they had it analysed, when it was found to consist of two parts of the choicest experience mixed with one part of the best common-sense, and this filled them with joy.
A small portion they set aside as a present for the kindly spook, and one third then fell to the ground-gnome as his share. To what was left they added their own store of common-sense, which now made an equal proportion of experience and common-sense. Well might the maker of ghosts and the maker of shadows congratulate each other that, after all their troubles, they were at last on the high road to fortune!