A boy was given twenty-five tin soldiers for his birthday. They were all brothers, made from the same old tin spoon. Twenty-four of them had two legs. The last one had only one, because the tin had run out. But he stood as firmly on his one leg as the others stood on two.
On the table there was a paper castle, and in its doorway stood a little paper dancer. She held one leg high behind her, so high that the soldier could not see it. "She has one leg, like me," he thought, and he loved her at once.
That night a black goblin jumped out of a box. "Tin soldier," he said, "keep your eyes to yourself." The soldier said nothing. In the morning he fell from the window into the street below.
Two boys found him. They made a boat out of newspaper and sent him down the gutter. The water carried him fast, into a dark drain and out into the canal, where a large fish swallowed him. Inside the fish it was darker still, but the soldier lay straight with his gun on his shoulder.
The fish was caught and sold, and the cook cut it open in the very same house the soldier had come from. She carried him back to the table, and there stood the paper dancer, still on one leg.
Then, for no reason at all, a boy picked up the soldier and threw him into the stove. The soldier felt the heat and looked at the dancer. A door blew open, the wind caught her, and she flew into the fire beside him. In the morning the maid found a small tin heart among the ashes.
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