Now in the middle of that island was a high mountain, a high mountain it was, and so white that when he came near it Ivan the Ninny began thinking of sheepskin coats, although it was midsummer and the sun was hot in the sky.  The trees were green round about, but there was nothing growing on the mountain at all.  It was just a great white mountain piled up into the sky in the middle of a green island.  Ivan walked a little way up the white slopes of the mountain, and then, because he felt thirsty, he thought he would let a little snow melt in his mouth.  He took some in his fingers and stuffed it in.  Quickly enough it came out again, I can tell you, for the mountain was not made of snow but of good Russian salt.  And if you want to try what a mouthful of salt is like, you may.

“No, thank you, grandfather,” the children said hurriedly together.

Old Peter went on with his tale.

Ivan the Ninny did not stop to think twice.  The salt was so clean and shone so brightly in the sunlight.  He just turned round and ran back to the shore, and called out to his ancient old sailormen and told them to empty everything they had on board over into the sea.  Over it all went, rags and tags and rotten timbers, till the little ship was as empty as a soup bowl after supper.  And then those ancient old men were set to work carrying salt from the mountain and taking it on board the little ship, and stowing it away below deck till there was not room for another grain.  Ivan the Ninny would have liked to take the whole mountain, but there was not room in the little ship.  And for that the ancient old sailormen thanked God, because their backs ached and their old legs were weak, and they said they would have died if they had had to carry any more.

Then they hoisted up the new sails they had patched together out of the rags and scraps of shawls and old brocades, and they sailed away once more over the blue sea.  And the wind stood fair, and they sailed before it, and the ancient old sailors rested their backs, and told old tales, and took turn and turn about at the rudder.

And after many days’ sailing they came to a town, with towers and churches and painted roofs, all set on the side of a hill that sloped down into the sea.  At the foot of the hill was a quiet harbour, and they sailed in there and moored the ship and hauled down their patchwork sails.

Ivan the Ninny went ashore, and took with him a little bag of clean white salt to show what kind of goods he had for sale, and he asked his way to the palace of the Tzar of that town.  He came to the palace, and went in and bowed to the ground before the Tzar.

“Who are you?” says the Tzar.

“I, great lord, am a Russian merchant, and here in a bag is some of my merchandise, and I beg your leave to trade with your subjects in this town.”

“Let me see what is in the bag,” says the Tzar.  Ivan the Ninny took a handful from the bag and showed it to the Tzar.