world a free man.

A soft wind breathed at large, and swung slowly in the black-silver treetops.
Over them Little Toonie could see the quiet slopes of Drundle Head, asleep in
the moonlight.

Before long, following the lead of his eyes, he had come to the bottom of the
ascent. There before him went walking a little shrivelled elderly man, looking
to right and left as if uncertain of the road.

As Little Toonie drew near, the other one turned and spoke. "Can you tell me,"
said he, "if this be the way to the fairies?"

Little Toonie had no tongue to give an answer; so, looking at his questioner,
he wagged his head and went on.

Quickening his pace, the old man came alongside and began peering; then he
smiled to himself, and after a bit spoke out. "So you have lost your cap,
neighbour? Then you will never be able to find the fairies." For he did not
know that Little Toonie, who wore no cap on his head, carried his capful of
moonshine safe underneath his skull, where it had been since the hour of his
birth.

The little elderly man slipped from his side, disappearing suddenly among the
bushes, and Toonie went on alone. So presently he was more than halfway up the
ascent, and could see along the foot-track of the thicket the silver moonlight
lying out over the open ahead.

He had nearly reached to the top of the hill, when up from the ground sprang
the little elderly man, and began beating him across the face with a hazel