“I am. What can I do for you?”
“Tell me the way to the country whence the shadows fall.”
“Ah! that I do not know. I only dream about it myself. I see its shadows sometimes in my mirror: the way to it I do not know. But I think the Old Man of the Fire must know. He is much older than I am. He is the oldest man of all.”
“Where does he live?”
“I will show you the way to his place. I never saw him myself.”
So saying, the young man rose, and then stood for a while gazing at Tangle.
“I wish I could see that country too,” he said. “But I must mind my work.”
He led her to the side of the cave, and told her to lay her ear against the wall.
“What do you hear?” he asked.
“I hear,” answered Tangle, “the sound of a great water running inside the rock.”
“That river runs down to the dwelling of the oldest man of all—the Old Man of the Fire. I wish I could go to see him. But I must mind my work. That river is the only way to him.”
Then the Old Man of the Earth stooped over the floor of the cave, raised a huge stone from it, and left it leaning. It disclosed a great hole that went plumb-down.
“That is the way,” he said.