“John!  John! what are you about?  The spade and scythe will be your sceptre and crown, and your bride will wear a garland of rosemary, and a gown of striped drill.”

Still John almost longed to get into the Nine-hills, for Klas told him that every one who by luck or cunning should get a cap of the little ones might go down with safety, and instead of their making a servant of him, he would be their master.  The person whose cap he got would be his servant, and obey all his commands.

St. John’s day, when the days were longest and the nights shortest, was now come.  Old and young kept the holiday, had all sorts of plays, and told all kinds of stories.  John could now no longer contain himself, but the day after the festival he slipt away to the Nine-hills, and when it grew dark laid himself down on the top of the highest of them, where Klas had told him the underground people had their principal dancing-place.  John lay quite still from ten till twelve at night.  At last it struck twelve.  Immediately there was a ringing and a singing in the hills, and then a whispering and a lisping, and a whiz and a buzz all about him, for the little people were now, some whirling round and round in the dance, and others sporting and tumbling about in the moonshine, and playing a thousand merry pranks and tricks.  He felt a secret dread come over him at this whispering and buzzing, for he could see nothing of them, as the caps they wore made them invisible, but he lay quite still with his face in the grass, and his eyes fast shut, snoring a little, just as if he were asleep.  Now and then he ventured to open his eyes a little and peep out, but not the slightest trace of them could he see, though it was bright moonlight.

It was not long before three of the underground people came jumping up to where he was lying, but they took no heed of him, and flung their brown caps up into the air, and caught them from one another.  At length one snatched the cap out of the hand of another and flung it away.  It flew direct, and fell upon John’s head.  The moment he felt it he caught hold of it, and, standing up, bid farewell to sleep.  He flung his cap about for joy and made the little silver bell of it jingle, then set it upon his head, and—­oh wonderful! that instant he saw the countless and merry swarm of the little people.

The three little men came slily up to him, and thought by their nimbleness to get back the cap, but he held his prize fast, and they saw clearly that nothing was to be done in this way with him, for in size and strength John was a giant in comparison with these little fellows, who hardly came up to his knee.  The owner of the cap now came up very humbly to the finder, and begged, in as supplicating a tone as if his life depended upon it, that he would give him back his cap.

“No,” said John, “you sly little rogue, you will get the cap no more.  That’s not the sort of thing one gives away for buttered cake.  I should be in a nice way with you if I had not something of yours, but now you have no power over me, but must do what I please.  I will go down with you and see how you live down below, and you shall be my servant.  Nay, no grumbling.  You know you must.  I know that just as well as you do, for Klas Starkwolt told it to me often and often!”