“There’s two encounters,” she said, “andnot a scrap of magical gratitude from either. Still, you’re agood stick. I’ m not grumbling. But I’m surely due tohave a third encounter, magical or not. In fact, I insist on one. Iwonder what it will be.”

The third encounter came towards the end of the afternoon whenSophie had worked her way quite high into the hills. A countrymancame whistling down the lane toward her. A shepherd, Sophie thought,going home after seeing to his sheep. He was a well-set-up youngfellow of forty or so. “Gracious!” Sophie said toherself. “This morning I’d have seen him as an old man.How one’s point of view does alter!”

When the shepherd saw Sophie mumbling to herself, he moved rathercarefully over to the other side of the lane and called out withgreat heartiness, “Good evening to you, Mother! Where are youoff to?”

“Mother?” said Sophie. “I’m not yourmother, young man!”

“A manner of speaking,” the shepherd said, edgingalong against the opposite hedge. “I was only meaning a politeinquiry, seeing you walk into the hills at the end of the day. Youwon’t get down into Upper Folding before nightfall, willyou?”

Sophie had not considered this. She stood in the road and thoughtabout it. “It doesn’t matter really,” she said,half to herself. “You can’t be fussy when you’reoff to seek your fortune.”

“Can’t you indeed, Mother?” said the shepherd.He had now edged himself downhill of Sophie and seemed to feel betterfor it. “Then I wish you good luck, Mother, provided yourfortune don’t have nothing to do with charming folks’cattle.” And he took off down the road in great strides, almostrunning, but not quite.

Sophie stared after him indignantly. “He thought I was awitch!” she said to her stick. She had half a mind to scare theshepherd by shouting nasty things after him, but that seemed a littleunkind. She plugged on uphill, mumbling. Shortly, the hedges gave wayto bare banks and the land beyond became heathery upland, with a lotof steepness beyond that covered with yellow, rattling grass. Sophiekept grimly on. By now her knobby old feet ached, and her back, andher knees. She became too tired to mumble and simply plugged on,panting, until the sun was quite low. And all at once it became quiteclear to Sophie that she could not walk a step further.

She collapsed onto a stone by the wayside, wondering what shewould do now. “The only fortune I can think of is a comfortablechair!” she gasped.

The stone proved to be on a sort of headland, which gave Sophie amagnificent view of the way she had come. There was most of thevalley spread out beneath her in the setting sun, all fields andwalls and hedges, the winding of the river, and the fine mansions ofrich people glowing out from clumps of trees, right down to bluemountains in the far distance. Just below her was Market Chipping.Sophie could look down into its well-known streets. There was MarketSquare and Cesari’s. She could have tossed a stone down thechimney pots of the house next to the hat shop.

“How near it still is!” Sophie told her stick indismay. “All that walking just to get above my ownrooftop!”

It got cold on the stone as the sun went down. An unpleasant windblew whichever way Sophie turned to avoid it. Now it no longer seemedso unimportant that she would be out on the hills during the night.She found herself thinking more and more of a comfortable chair and afireside, and also of darkness and wild animals. But if she went backto Market Chipping, it would be the middle of the night before shegot there. She might just as well go on. She sighed and stood up,creaking. It was awful. She ached all over.

“I never realized before what old people had to put upwith!” she panted as she labored uphill. “Still, Idon’t think wolves will eat me. I must be far too dry andtough. That’s one comfort.”

Night was coming down fast now and the heathery uplands wereblue-gray. The wind was also sharper. Sophie’s panting and thecreaking of her limbs were so loud in her ears that it took her awhile to notice that some of the grinding and puffing was not comingfrom herself at all. She looked up blurrily.

Wizard Howl’s castle was rumbling and bumping toward heracross the moorland. Black smoke was blowing up in clouds from behindits black battlements. It looked tall and thin and heavy and ugly andvery sinister indeed. Sophie leaned on her stick and watched it. Shewas not particularly frightened. She wondered how it moved. But themain thing in her mind was that all that smoke must mean a largefireside somewhere inside those tall black walls.

“Well, why not?” she said to her stick. “WizardHowl is not likely to want my soul for his collection. He onlytakes young girls.”

She raised her stick and waved it imperiously at the castle.

“Stop!” she shrieked.

The castle obediently came to a rumbling, grinding halt aboutfifty feet uphill from her. Sophie felt rather gratified as shehobbled toward it.

There was a large black door in the black wall facingSophie and she made for that, hobbling briskly. The castle was uglierthat ever close to. It was far too tall for its height and not a veryregular shape. As far as Sophie could see in the growing darkness, itwas built of huge black blocks, like coal, and, like coal, theseblocks were all different shapes and sizes. Chill breathed off theseblocks as she got closer, but that failed to frighten Sophie at all.She just thought of chairs and firesides and stretched her hand outeagerly to the door.

Her hand could not come near it. Some invisible wall stopped herhand about a foot from the door. Sophie prodded at it with anirritable finger. When that made no difference, she prodded with herstick. The wall seemed to be all over the door from as high as herstick could reach, and right down to the heather sticking out fromunder the doorstep.

“Open up!” Sophie cackled at it.

That made no difference to the wall.

“Very well,” Sophie said. “I’ll find yourback door.” She hobbled off the lefthand corner of the castle,that being both the nearest and slightly downhill. But she could notget around the corner. The invisible wall stopped her again as soonas she was level with the irregular black cornerstones. At this,Sophie said a word she had learned from Martha, that neither oldladies nor young girls are supposed to know, and stumped uphill andanti-clockwise to the castle’s righthand corner. There was nobarrier there. She turned that corner and came hobbling eagerlytowards the second big black door in the middle of that side of thecastle.

There was a barrier over that door too.

Sophie glowered at it. “I call that very unwelcoming!”she said.

Black smoke blew down form the battlements in clouds. Sophiecoughed. Now she was angry. She was old, frail, chilly, and achingall over. Night was coming on and the castle just sat and blew smokeat her. “I’ll speak to Howl about this!” she said,and set off fiercely to the next corner. There was not a barrierthere—evidently you had to go around the castle clockwise—but there,bit sideways in the next wall, was a third door. This one was muchsmaller and shabbier.

“The back door at last!” Sophie said.

The castle started to move again as Sophie got near the back door.The ground shook. The wall shuddered and creaked, and the doorstarted to travel sideways from her.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sophie shouted. She ranafter the door and hit it violently with her stick. “Openup!” she yelled.

The door sprang open inward, still moving sideways. Sophie, byhobbling furiously, managed to get one foot up on its doorstep. Thenshe hopped and scrambled and hopped again, while the great blackblocks round the door jolted and crunched as the castle gatheredspeed over the uneven hillside. Sophie did not wonder the castle hada lopsided look. The marvel was that it did not fall apart on thespot.