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Bob stood off and looked at the place where it had been, let his jaw drop a little in surprise and disappointment, and came out slowly with this: “Well, I never, in all my born’d days!”

He thought best now to take the key back and have it changed once more. But the other key-hole was gone too. Not knowing what to do, he returned to the door and put the key up where the nimble key-hole had been, whereupon it reappeared, the gold key inserted itself, and the door opened of its own accord.

Bob eagerly tried to enter, but there stood somebody in the door, blocking the passage.

“Hello!” said Bob. “You here, Ole Ke-whack? How did you get in? By the back door, I ‘low.”

“Put my yellow waistcoat back where you got it, ke-whack!” said the stake-driver, shivering. “It’s cold in here, and how shall I go to the party without it, ke-whack!”

“Your yaller wescut?” said Bob. “I haint got no wescut, ke-whack or no ke-whack.”

“You must put that away!” said the fly-up-the-creek, pecking his long nose at the gold key. “Ke-whack! ke-whack!”

“Oh!” said Towpate, “why didn’t you say so?” Then he tossed the gold key down on the ground, where he had found the iron one, but the key stood straight up, waving itself to and fro, while Bobby came out with his drawling: “Well, I never!”

“Pick it up! Pick it up! Ke-whack! You’ve pitched my yellow waistcoat into the dirt, ke-whack, ke-whack!”

“Oh! You call that a wescut, do you. Well, I never!” And Bobby picked up the key, and since he could think of no place else to put it, he put it into the key-hole, upon which it unwound itself to the left till it was silver. Bobby, seeing that the key had ceased to move, pulled it out and turned toward the open door to see the stake-driver wearing a yellow vest, which he was examining with care, saying, “Ke-whack, ke-whack,” as he did so. “I knew you’d get spots on it, ke-whack, throwing it on the ground that way.”

Poor Bobby was too much mystified by this confusion between the gold key and the yellow vest, or “wescut,” as they call it on the Indian Kaintuck, to say anything.

“Now, my white coat, put that back, ke-whack,” said the fly-up-the-creek fairy. “I can’t go to the party in my shirt sleeves, ke-whack.”

“I haint got your coat, Ole Daddy Longlegs,” said Bobby, “‘less you mean this key.”

On this suspicion he put the key back, upon which it again unwound itself to the left and became brass. As soon as Bobby had pulled out the brass key and turned round, he saw that the fairy was clad in a white coat, which, with his stunning yellow vest, made him cut quite a figure.

“Now, my yellow cap,” said the stake-driver, adding a cheerful ke-whack or two, and Bobby guessed that he was to put the brass key in the key-hole, whereupon it was immediately turned round by some unseen power until it became iron, and then thrown out on the ground where Bobby Towpate had found it at first. Sure enough, the fairy now wore a yellow cap, and, quick as thought, he stepped out to where the key was lying, and struck it twice with his nose, whereupon it changed to a pair of three-toed boots, which he quickly drew on. Then he turned and bowed to Bobby, and said:

“Ke-whack! You’ve ironed my coat and vest, and brushed my cap and blacked my boots. Good-day, ke-whack, I’m going to the party. You can go in if you want to.”

Bobby stood for some time, looking after him as he flew away along the creek, crying “ke-whack, ke-whack, ke-whack!” And Bobby said once again: “Well, I never, in all my born’d days,” and then added, “Haint Daddy Longlegs peart? Thinks he’s some in his yaller wescut, I ‘low.”

When once the fly-up-the-creek had gone out of sight and out of hearing, Bobby started on his search for the Sleepy-headed People. He travelled along a sort of underground gallery or cave, until he came to a round basin-like place. Here he found people who looked like fat little boys and girls, rather than men and women. They were lolling round in a ring, while one of the number read drowsily from a big book which was lying on a bowlder in the middle of this Sleepy-hollow. All seemed to be looking and listening intently. But as soon as those who sat facing Bobby caught sight of him, they gave a long yawn and fell into a deep sleep. One after another they looked at him, and one after another the little round, lazy fellows gaped, until it seemed their heads would split open, then fell over and slept soundly, snoring like little pigs. Bobby stood still with astonishment. He did not even find breath to say, “Well, I never!” For presently every one of the listeners had gone off to sleep. The reader, whose back was toward the new-comer, did not see him. He was the only one left awake, and Bobby looked to see him drop over at any moment. But the little fat man read right along in a drawling, sleepy mumble, something about the Athenians until Bob cried out: “Hello, Ole Puddin’-bag, everybody’th gone to thleep; you’d jeth as well hole up yer readin’ a while.”