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Holding it as if it were glass, Bob scratched it on the hard floor. It did not light. Again he pulled it across the hard surface and a little flare spurted from the head and then died out. The door was fastened by strong iron bolts, which Hippolitus vainly endeavoured to draw. The voices drew near. After much labour and difficulty the bolts yielded—the door unclosed—and light dawned upon them through the mouth of a cave, into which they now entered. On quitting the cave they found themselves in the forest, and in a short time reached the borders. They now ventured to stop, and looking back perceived no person in pursuit. The old man gave her a basket, which she fastened to Fretillon's neck, and then said, "Go to the best kitchen in the town, and bring me back what you find in the saucepan." Fretillon ran off to the town, and as there was no better kitchen than that of the King, he went in, uncovered the saucepan, and cleverly carried off all that was in it; then he returned to the hut. Rosette said to him, "Go back and take whatever you can find of the best in the larder." Fretillon went back to the King's larder, and took white bread, wine, and all sorts of fruits and sweetmeats; he was so laden that he could only just manage to carry the things home..

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“Yes.” What a shame, what a shame that he should be the poorest rider of all! On the way back he whipped Bob so that the horse finally ran, puffing, coughing, and stumbling along. “Would you dare sit up on the big red pear?” asked Olaf. “Gee whiz, it’s interesting,” said Bob at last, when Jerry put the fascinating instrument away..