But the porters would not budge
a foot quicker than they chose, and as they were not poor
fourfooted carriers their employers dared not thrash them, though
most willingly would they have done so.
The road seemed terribly long to the anxious tradesmen, to the
plodding porters, to the poor little man inside the stove, as he
kept sinking and rising, sinking and rising, with each of their
steps.
Where they were going he had no idea, only after a very long time
he lost the sense of the fresh icy wind blowing on his face
through the brasswork above, and felt by their movements beneath
him that they were mounting steps or stairs. Then he heard a great
many different voices, but he could not understand what was being
said. He felt that his bearers paused some time, then moved on and
on again. Their feet went so softly he thought they must be moving
on carpet, and as he felt a warm air come to him he concluded that
he was in some heated chambers, for he was a clever little fellow,
and could put two and two together, though he was so hungry and so
thirsty and his empty stomach felt so strangely. They must have
gone, he thought, through some very great number of rooms, for
they walked so long on and on, on and on. At last the stove was
set down again, and, happily for him, set so that his feet were
downward.
What he fancied was that he was in some museum, like that which he
had seen in the city of Innspruck.
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