arily. "If she
should lose it; or mislay it; or should even let it grow cold! My love!
my love! my love!" he began calling.

"Cuckoo! cuckoo!" kept sounding across the grass.

He ran hither and hither: he followed the woodland paths feverishly.

At times he fancied he caught a glimpse of her vanishing garments; of
the sunlight glinting on her long gold tresses. Now he imagined he could
hear her laughter echoing among the tree-trunks: and anon he even
fancied he could hear her singing. But he pursued her down the long
green vistas in vain.

He sat down beneath a tree and clasped his hands drearily. "What a fool
I was to trust my soul to her!" he wailed.

And at that moment he was aware of a ragged pedlar coming along the
forest glades, and whistling as he came.

"Ho! young man! you look melancholy," quoth the pedlar. "What d'ye lack?
A philtre to make your sweetheart love you? Ribbons for a lady? A collar
for your hound?"

"I want a soul," said the young man, glancing at him hungrily.

"A common want!" quoth the pedlar, grinning broadly. "But here in my
pack I have souls in plenty. Dip in your hand and take one boldly!"

"I should like to choose. . . ."

"It is take it, or leave it. I allow no choice. I am offering you a
gift."

The pedlar laid his half-open pack on the grass.

"Dip in your hand and take one, if you will."

The young man dipped in his hand at a venture, and drew out one--the
soul of an ape.

"Not that! I will not have that!" cried he.

"Then you will have none," said the pedlar, dropping the soul in his
pack again. "If the great Soul Maker, who manufactures them by the
million, allows neither picking nor choosing, beyond the casual dip of
chance, do you think that a mere pedlar in souls, like myself, can do
business on a basis which _he_ has found unprofitable? Pooh, man, get
back your soul _if you can_, or else you may do without one, as far as I
am concerned." And off strolled the pedlar, whistling as he went.

The young man leaned his head dejectedly on his hand.

"How can I get back my soul?" he moaned.

"Why not live without one?" croaked a voice above his shoulder.

He looked up, and saw a sooty old raven peering down at him.

"Live without a soul! You'll never miss it," croaked the raven.

"Can I?" cried the young man: amazed, yet hopeful.

"_Can I?_" croaked the raven, mockingly echoing him. "_Can I?_ Of course
you can, young fool!"

"Then I will!" exclaimed the young