Whatever their fears might be, none of Prince Marvel's party hesitated to follow him along the path through the forest in search of the sorcerer, and by and by they came upon a large clearing. In the middle of this open space was a big building in such bad repair that its walls were tumbling down in several places, and all around it the ground was uncared for and littered with rubbish. A man was walking up and down in front of this building, with his head bowed low; but when he heard the sound of approaching horses' hoofs he looked up and stared for a moment in amazement. Then, with a shout of rage, he rushed toward them and caught Prince Marvel's horse by the bridle.  
"How dare you!" he cried; "how dare you enter my forest?"
 
Marvel jerked his bridle from the man's grasp and said in return:
 
"Who are you?"
 
"Me! Who am I? Why, I am the great and powerful Kwytoffle! So beware! Beware my sorcery!"
 
They all looked at the man curiously. He was short and very fat, and had a face like a puff-ball, with little red eyes and scarcely any nose at all. He wore a black gown with scarlet grasshoppers and june-bugs embroidered upon the cloth; and his hat was high and peaked, with an imitation grasshopper of extraordinary size perched upon its point. In his right hand he carried a small black wand, and around his neck hung a silver whistle on a silver cord.
 
Seeing that the strangers were gazing on him so earnestly, Kwytoffle thought they were frightened; so he said again, in a big voice:
 
"Beware my vengeance!"
 
"Beware yourself!" retorted the prince. "For if you do not treat us more respectfully, I shall have you flogged."
 
"What! Flog me!" shouted Kwytoffle, furiously. "For this I will turn every one of you into grasshoppers--unless you at once give me all the wealth you possess!"
 
"Poor man!" exclaimed Nerle; "I can see you are longing for that flogging. Will you have it now?" and he raised his riding-whip above his head.
 
Kwytoffle stumbled backward a few paces and blew shrilly upon his silver whistle. Instantly a number of soldiers came running from the building, others following quickly after them until fully a hundred rough-looking warriors, armed with swords and axes, had formed in battle array, facing the little party of Prince Marvel.
 
"Arrest these strangers!" commanded Kwytoffle, in a voice like a roar. "Capture them and bind them securely, and then I will change them all into grasshoppers!"
 
"All right," answered the captain of the soldiers; and then he turned to his men and shouted: "Forward--double-quick--march!"
 
They came on with drawn swords; at first running, and then gradually dropping into a walk, as they beheld Nerle, Wul-Takim, King Terribus and Marvel standing quietly waiting to receive them, weapons in hand and ready for battle. A few paces off the soldiers hesitated and stopped altogether, and Kwytoffle yelled at the captain:
 
"Why don't you go on? Why don't you capture them? Why don't you fight them?"
 
"Why, they have drawn their swords!" responded the captain, reproachfully.
 
"Who cares?" roared the sorcerer.
 
"We care," said the captain, giving a shudder, as he looked upon the strangers. "Their swords are sharp, and some of us would get hurt."
 
"You're cowards!" shrieked the enraged Kwytoffle. "I'll turn you all into June-bugs!"
 
At this threat the soldiers dropped their swords and axes, and all fell upon their knees, trembling visibly and imploring their cruel master not to change them into june-bugs.
 
"Bah!" cried Nerle, scornfully; "why don't you fight? If we kill you, then you will escape being June-bugs."
 
"The fact is," said the captain, woefully, "we simply can't fight. For our swords are only tin, and our axes are made of wood, with silver-paper pasted over them."
 
"But why is that?" asked Wul-Takim, while all the party showed their surprise.
 
"Why, until now we have never had any need to fight," said the captain, "for every one has quickly surrendered to us or run away the moment we came near. But you people do not appear to be properly frightened, and now, alas! since you have drawn upon us the great sorcerer's anger, we shall all be transformed into June-bugs."
 
"Yes!" roared Kwytoffle, hopping............