When he came to the first milestone he found the mossy spring was
frozen over. At the second he saw the leafless apple tree, with a
deserted bird's nest upon it; and at the third he discerned something
that looked like the little magician; but he believed it was only a
snow wreath: at any rate, it did not stop the way, and on he rode,
exulting, though a little cold.

It was all very pleasant until night came; and then he was glad to see
an inn, with a bright fire shining through the windows. He pulled in
the reins, but the horse would not stop. He pulled harder and harder,
and called "Whoa!" until he was breathless. It was all of no use. On
went the horse, and the inn, with its bright windows, was soon left
far behind. And over the wide plain he rode all night, through the
wind and the snow, which was not at all agreeable. In the morning he
was quite faint, and wanted to stop at a cottage for some breakfast,
and a good warming for himself, and some oats for his horse. But no;
Wayfare had nothing to do with such trifles. He went calmly on, always
at the same jog-trot pace, and that not a very easy one. Gaspar had to
catch at some berries as he rode through the woods, but found them
poor fare, and was glad to find himself, the next day, getting into a
warmer climate, where even oranges grew; but not many could he gather
as he rode by the trees, and it was very provoking to see the horse,
instead of stopping at a running brook, trot straight through it, and
across a green pasture, as if it were all a parched desert.

"What an old fogy of a horse he is! I am sure he must be made of
wood," exclaimed Gaspar; and he gave a great pound on the horse's
neck. "Hollow, I declare! Nothing but a wooden horse, after all, and
goes by machinery. I wonder how long he is wound up to go, and whether
I shall ever get off the dreadful nightmare's back. What a fool I was