He soon came to a dense wood, where the gi-gan-tic trees, with gnarl-ed and twist-ed trunks, wound their e-nor-mous limbs a-round each o-ther in the most fan-tas-tic forms, and the tan-gled un-der-wood twi-ned like snakes a-cross the path, as if to for-bid any ven-tu-rous foot from en-ter-ing into the dark green depths.  He, how-e-ver, look-ed up-on all such ob-sta-cles as no-thing in com-pa-ri-son with the last which he had been en-a-bled to sur-mount with the as-sist-ance of the hands.  So he plun-ged on, strik-ing right and left, to clear his way, with his good stick.  As he was lay-ing a-bout with a right good will, he was brought to a stand-still by a fe-ro-ci-ous growl.  He turn-ed his eyes a-round, and be-held, much to his dis-may, a fierce wolf pre-par-ing to spring up-on him.  He shrank down with ter-ror as he look-ed up-on the white teeth and fi-e-ry eyes of the sa-vage brute, and gave him-self up for lost, when, to his joy, one of the great hands e-mer-ged from a-midst the thick fo-li-age of a tree, and pla-ced it-self be-tween him and his en-e-my; at the same time the o-ther hand seiz-ed the wolf, and crush-ed it in its grasp.

Wil-lie fell on his knees, and re-turn-ed thanks for his de-li-ver-ance; then, look-ing round for the hands, he found they had va-nish-ed.

[Illustration:  The Kitchen of the ogress.]

Wea-ri-ed with his jour-ney, he sat down un-der a tree, de-ter-min-ed to rest for the night; and pull-ing out his wal-let, pre-par-ed to re-fresh him-self with part of its con-tents, for he had scarce-ly eat-en any all day, so com-plete-ly had he been ta-ken up by the won-der-ful ap-pear-ance of the good hands.

Af-ter fi-nish-ing his meal, which he did with ex-ceed-ing rel-ish, he be-gan to turn o-ver in his mind how he was to make up his bed in his ve-ry large bed-cham-ber, for it ap-pear-ed as if he had got the great fo-rest all to him-self.  When he had col-lect-ed a suf-fi-ci-en-cy of dri-ed leaves to-ge-ther to make his rest-ing place soft-er, he pre-par-ed to lie down, when, to his as-to-nish-ment and de-light, he be-held the gi-gan-tic hands spread them-selves over him, with the fin-gers en-twin-ed, ma-king for him the most per-fect lit-tle tent in the world.  How his heart bound-ed with gra-ti-tude to-wards the good fai-ry hands, as he felt how safe-ly he might in-dulge in his slum-bers be-neath such pro-tec-tion!

“Thank you a-gain, good hands,” said he, “for your kind care of me; but be-fore I say my pray-ers, can-not you, since you are so pow-er-ful, tell me some-thing of my dear mo-ther—­whe-ther she is more con-so-led, and whe-ther she has food to eat?”

“Good Wil-lie,” re-plied a voice, “your mo-ther knows that you will be pro-tect-ed, as all good chil-dren are; and she has food, for she is in-dus-tri-ous; her hands were giv-en to her from my king-dom, in which no i-dle hands are ever made, as you shall know from me here-af-ter.  Sleep, then, in peace, that you may rise pre-pa-red for la-bour on the com-ing morn.”  So Wil-lie slept.