Leaving his poor mother behind, for he had forgotten all about her
during these days, Jim set off for the palace. It was a long, hard
journey, on account of the melon-vines, that not only blocked the
road, but even chased him. Many a narrow escape had he from being
crushed to death in the embrace of some young tendril that would shoot
out, wriggling and writhing toward him like a great green serpent.
At length, he arrived at the palace gate, which in old times was
marble, but now was only a hole that had been cut through a melon.
"Halt! Who goes there!" shouted a sentinel, thrusting his spear in
front of Jim's panting breast.
"It's only Nimble Jim, the Cobbler. I want to see the king," said the
boy.
"Be off, you fellow!" shouted the sentry. "Our noble king don't
hob-nob with cobblers! Be off, I say, or----" And he shook his spear
at our hero ominously.
"Hold, there!" shouted the king himself, straining out of a window to
look between the melon-leaves. "Hold, I say! What do you want, young
cobbler?"
"I want your crown and kingdom, sire," boldly answered Jim.
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