Atondido Stories
have taken,” he said to himself, “and perhaps I’ll have better
luck.”
So he traveled on and after three days and three nights a
high castle came in view.
“Thank God!” he exclaimed, pushing joyfully ahead. “I shall
soon have human companionship once more.”
The castle was built entirely of lead. The twelve ravens cir-
cled above it and in front of it stood an old woman leaning on a
long leaden staff. She was a Yezibaba. Now you must know that
a Yezibaba is an ugly old witch with a hooked nose, a bristly
face, and long scrawny hands. She’s a bad old thing usually, but
sometimes, if you take her fancy, she’s kind.
This time when she looked the prince over she shook her
head at him in a friendly way.
“Yi, yi, my boy, how did you get here? Why, not even a little
bird or a tiny butterfly comes here, much less a human being!
You’d better escape if life is dear to you, or my son, when he
comes home, will eat you!”
“No, no, old mother, don’t make me go,” begged the prince.
“I have come to you for advice to know whether you can tell me
anything about the Glass Hill and the Three Citrons.”
“No, I have never heard a word about the Glass Hill,”
Yezibaba said. “But wait until my son comes. He may be able to
tell you something. Yes, yes, I’ll manage to save you somehow.
Go hide under the besom and stay there until I call you.”
The mountains rumbled and the castle trembled and Yeziba-
ba whispered to the prince that her son was coming.
“Phew! Phew! I smell human meat! I’ll eat it!” shouted
Yezibaba’s son while he was still in the doorway. He struck the
ground with his leaden club and the whole castle shook.
230