ou must have been fledged yesterday! Didn't you
ever hear a woodpecker pecking at the trunk of an old tree?"

"He is right," added Peter, laughing; "it must be a woodpecker. Stay
with us, you foolish fellow."

"It's all the same to me," answered Thumbling; "but I am very curious to
see what is going on up there." So he began to climb the rocks on his
hands and knees, while his two brothers trudged along, making as much
fun of him as possible.

When he got up to the top of the rock, which was only after a deal of
hard work, what do you suppose he found there? A MAGIC PICKAXE, that,
all alone by itself, was digging at the hard stone as if it were soft
clay; and digging so well, that at every blow it went down more than a
foot in the rock.

"Good morning, Mistress Pickaxe," said Thumbling. "Doesn't it tire you
to be delving alone there, hollowing away at that old rock?"

"Many long years I have been waiting for you, my son," answered the
pickaxe.

"Very well, ma'am! here I am," replied Thumbling; and, without being
astonished at anything, he seized the pick, took it off its handle, put
the two pieces in the stout leather bag he carried over his shoulder,
and gayly descended to overtake his brothers.

"What miracle did his Worship see this time?" asked Paul, in a surly
tone.

"It _was_ a pickaxe that we heard," answered Thumbling, slyly; and he
plodded along, without any more words.

A little farther along, they came to a brook. The water was clear and
fresh, and, as the travellers were thirsty, they all stopped to drink
out of the hollows of their hands.

"It is very wonderful," said Thumbling, "that there should be so much
water in this little valley. I should like to see where this brook
starts from."

But to this the only answer was from Paul, who said gruffly to his
brother, "We shall soon see this inquisitive fellow climbing up to
Heaven, and asking questions of the angels themselves."

"Very well!" says Thumbling; "it's all the same; and I am very curious
to see where all this water comes from."

So saying, he began to follow up the streamlet, in spite of the jeers
and scoldings of his brothers. And lo and behold! the farther he went,
smaller and smaller grew the brook, and less and less the quantity of
water. And when he came to the end, what do you think he found? A simple
nut-shell, from the bottom of which a tiny stream of water burst out and
sparkled in the sun.

"Good morning, Mistress Spring