by Tove Jansson
‘Hullo!’ shouted Snufkin from the top. ‘Aren’t you coming up soon? It’s getting cold and the dew is beginning to fall.’
‘In a minute,’ Sniff shouted back. ‘There are such a lot left…’ he trailed off, for he had just seen two huge red garnets shining like eyes, right at the dark end of the cleft.
Suddenly, to his horror, he realized that they were eyes –eyes that blinked and moved and came nearer, followed by a scaly body that rasped coldly on the stones.
Sniff gave one frantic squeak and ran like mad to the place where he had come down. Shaking all over he began to clamber up, his paws damp with fear, while below him sounded a soft threatening hiss.
‘What’s happened?’ called Moomintroll, who could hear him coming. ‘What’s the hurry?’
Sniff didn’t answer – he just climbed. And when they pulled him over the edge at last he collapsed exhausted in a heap.
Moomintroll and Snufkin leaned over the edge of the cleft and looked down. What they saw was enough to frighten anybody. It was a giant lizard crouching over a pile of shining garnets, like a hideous dragon guarding its beautiful treasure.
‘Well, strike me pink!’ exclaimed Moomintroll.
Sniff was sobbing on the ground.
‘It’s all over now,’ said Snufkin. ‘Don’t cry any more Sniff.’
‘The garnets,’ Sniff moaned. ‘I didn’t get a single one.’
Snufkin sat down beside him and said kindly: ‘I know. But that’s how it is when you start wanting to have things. Now I just look at them, and when I go away I carry them in my head. Then my hands are always free, because I don’t have to carry a suitcase.’
‘The garnets would have gone in the rucksack,’ said Sniff miserably. ‘You don’t need hands for that. It’s not the same thing at all just looking at them. I want to touch them and know they’re mine.’
‘Never mind, Sniff. We’re sure to find some more treasures,’ said Moomintroll comfortingly. ‘Now cheer up and get a move on. It’s getting cold and creepy out here.’
So they made their way back through the darkening ravine, each one wrapped up in his own thoughts: three subdued little animals.
CHAPTER 5
Which is about the underground river and rescue by a Hemulen.
Snufkin added gaiety to the expedition. He played songs on his mouth-organ that they had never heard before, songs from all corners of the earth, he did card tricks and showed them how to make fig-pancakes, and he told them many of his strange and wonderful adventures. The river, too, seemed more lively; it was narrower and flowed swift and strong, eddying round rocks and boulders between high banks.
Every day the blue and purple mountains came nearer, and they were so high that sometimes their tops disappeared in the heavy rolling clouds.
One morning Snufkin sat with his legs dangling in the water carving a whistle for himself. ‘I remember,’ he began, putting his head on one side, and Moomintroll and Sniff immediately pricked up their ears, ‘I remember the land with the hot springs. The ground was covered with lava, and from under the lava came a continual rumbling. (It was the earth turning over in her sleep.) There were rocks strewn about higgledy-piggledy, and everything looked strange and unreal in the hot steamy atmosphere. I arrived there in the evening. It didn’t take long to cook supper – I only had to fill a saucepan from a hot spring. Everything was bubbling and steaming and I didn’t see a single living thing-not so much as a blade of grass.’
‘Didn’t you burn your feet?’ asked Sniff.
‘I walked on stilts,’ Snufkin answered. ‘They were wonderful for climbing, and I don’t know what I should have done without them when the earth that had been asleep suddenly woke up! There was a great rumbling and roaring and a crater opened right in front of me, and belched out red flames and great clouds of ashes.’
‘A volcano!’ gasped Moomintroll and held his breath.
‘Yes,’ said Snufkin. ‘It was awful, but beautiful too. And then I saw the fire spirits – lots of them – swarming up out of the earth and flying about like sparks. Of course I had to go a roundabout way to get past the volcano. It was hot too, so I went as fast as my stilts would carry me. Half-way down the mountain I came across a little stream and lay down to drink. (The water wasn’t boiling in that stream, you see.) And then one of the little fire spirits floated down and fell into the water. He was nearly extinguished, but just had enough strength to cry out to me to save him.’
‘And did you?’ asked Sniff.
‘Oh, yes. I had nothing against the creature,’ said Snufkin. ‘But I burnt myself on him you know. Well, there he was on dry land again, and presently he began to flare up to his normal state. He was very grateful of course, and gave me a present before he flew away.’
‘What was it?’ asked Sniff, in great excitement.
‘A bottle of underground sun-oil,’ answered Snufkin.
‘It’s what the fire spirits rub on to themselves when they go right down into the burning heart of the earth.’
‘And can you go through fire when you’ve got this oil on?’ asked Sniff, his eyes popping out with amazement.
‘Of course you can,’ Snufkin answered.
‘But why didn’t you say so before?’ cried Moomintroll. ‘Now we can all be saved. When the comet comes we just…’
‘But I’ve got hardly any left,’ said Snufkin sadly. ‘I used most of it up on a couple of trips into the desert, and then saving things from a house on fire. I didn’t know… There’s only a little drop left in the bottle.’
‘Perhaps there’s enough for a little animal of, say, my size?’ said Sniff.
Snufkin looked at him. ‘Perhaps,’ he said. ‘But hardly for your tail as well. That will have to go.’
‘Oh, help!’ exclaimed Sniff. ‘Then I’d rather be shrivelled right up.’
But Snufkin wasn’t listening. He sat with wrinkled brow looking at the river. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘have you noticed anything different?’
‘The river has a new sound,’ said Sniff.
It was true. There was a dreadful roaring, and the water eddied and swirled between the rocky shores.
‘Take down the sail,’ ordered Snufkin, going forward to keep a look-out. The river was tearing along faster than ever like a person who has been out on a long journey and suddenly notices that he is late getting home for supper. The banks closed in, squeezing the foaming water into a narrow trough, and the rocks towered over them higher and steeper than ever.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to land?’ screamed Sniff above the noise of the water.
‘It’s too late now,’ Moomintroll screamed back. ‘We must just go on till it gets calmer.’
But it didn’t get calmer. They rushed wildly through the Lonely Mountains whose wet black walls closed in on either side, and the strip of sky above got narrower and narrower.
Somewhere in front of them there was a threatening rumble. ‘We’re going down-hill!’ shouted Snufkin. ‘Hold tight!’
They all held on to the mast and shut their eyes. There was a crash, a roar and a shower of spray…. Then all was quiet – they had cleared the waterfall.
‘Well, strike me pink!’ exclaimed Moomintroll.
It was quite dark all round them, except for patches of white-green foam, and when their eyes got used to the darkness they saw that the mountain walls had closed over them completely – they were in a tunnel!
The tunnel stretched away in front of them getting smaller and smaller; it was like a nightmare, and though the water was calmer now it was terribly dark.
‘This wasn’t the idea exactly,’ said Moomintroll. ‘We seem to be going right down into the earth, instead of up to the top of the mountains.’
They all realized the truth of this and sat for a time in gloomy silence. Then Snufkin said:
‘You could write a poem about this. What about:
Floating on this eerie water,
Far away from bricks and mortar,’
‘Saw a mermaid
– didn’t caught her,’ suggested Sniff, blowing his nose.
‘That’s not true, not grammar, and it doesn’t even rhyme properly,’ said Snufkin, and the subject dropped.
The tunnel curved once or twice, getting even narrower and darker, and now and then the raft bumped against the walls. They picked up their rucksacks and waited. Once more there was a bump and this time the mast was knocked down.
‘Snufkin,’ said Moomintroll in a very small voice, ‘you know what that means, don’t you?’
The vault above them had become lower – or else the water had risen. Very soon it would completely fill the tunnel.
‘Throw the mast overboard!’ shouted Snufkin, grabbing his precious flag.’ It’s no use now.’
There was another long silent wait.
It had begun to be a little lighter, and they could distinguish each other’s white faces.
Suddenly Sniff shouted: ‘Oh! My ears touched the roof!’ and threw himself flat with a frantic squeak.
‘What will mamma say,’ said Moomintroll, ‘if we never come home again?’
Just then the raft stopped with a thud, and they all fell together in a heap.
‘We’ve run aground,’ screamed Sniff.
Snufkin leaned over the edge and looked.
‘The mast is holding us,’ he said. ‘It’s lying across the tunnel.’
‘Look what we’ve escaped!’ said Moomintroll in a shaky voice.
Just in front of them the river disappeared with a gurgle down a black hole straight into the earth!
‘I’ve just about had enough of voyages of discovery,’ said Sniff plaintively. ‘I want to go home! I suppose we’ll have to sit here all our lives playing poker…’
‘You silly little animal,’ said Snufkin, ‘grumbling just when we’re going to be saved by nothing less than a miracle. Look up there!’
Sniff looked and saw, through a crack in the rock above them, a small patch of cloudy sky.
‘Well, I’m not a bird,’ he said gloomily, ‘and what’s more, I get dizzy fits (that’s because I had inflammation of the ears when I was very young). So how could I ever get up there?’
But Snufkin took out his mouth-organ and played his gayest adventure-song (not just-the-right-sized adventure, but a terrific one) about rescues and surprises and sunshine. Moomintroll started to whistle the refrain (he couldn’t sing, but he could whistle beautifully), and in the end Sniff had to join in too with his falsetto squeak. It was a bit out of tune, but fairly cheerful. Their song echoed in the tunnel and up through the crack in the roof, until it woke a Hemulen who was asleep up above, with his butterfly-net beside him.
‘Whatever’s that?’ gasped the Hemulen with a start. He looked into his jar, where all the small creatures he had caught were imprisoned, but the insects hadn’t made the noise.
It came straight out of the ground.
‘Remarkable!’ said the Hemulen and lay down flat to listen. ‘There must be some rare caterpillar that makes that noise. I must find it.’
And he began creeping around snuffing and sniffing with his large nose, until he reached the hole in the ground where
the noise was loudest of all. He stuck his nose in as far as possible but couldn’t see anything in the dark. However, the party down below saw his shadow across the light, and their song changed to a wild yell.
‘Those caterpillars must have gone off their heads,’ the Hemulen said to himself, pushing his net down the hole.
Of course Moomintroll and the others didn’t waste much time in jumping into it with their belongings, and when the Hemulen hauled up his heavy load and shook it out he was amazed to see three such odd creatures blinking in the daylight. ‘Most extraordinary!’ he remarked.
‘Thank you very much,’ said Moomintroll, who pulled himself together first. ‘You saved us in the nick of time.’
‘Have I saved you?’ asked the Hemulen in surprise. ‘I didn’t mean to. I was looking for the caterpillars that were making such a noise down there.’ (Hemulens are generally a bit slow in grasping an idea, but they are very pleasant if you don’t annoy them.)
‘Are we in the Lonely Mountains now?’ asked Sniff.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said the Hemulen, ‘but there are plenty of interesting moths.’
‘I think it must be the Lonely Mountains,’ said Snufkin, gazing at the massive piles of rock, endless, desolate and silent, which towered on every side. The air was chilly.
‘And where is the Observatory?’ asked Sniff.
‘We’re going to look for it,’ said Moomintroll. ‘It’s on the highest peak I believe. But first I should like to have some coffee.’
‘The kettle is still on the raft,’ said Snufkin.
Moomintroll loved coffee, and he rushed at once to the edge of the hole and looked down.
‘Oh deary me!’ he lamented. ‘The raft has floated off and I suppose it’s gone down that awful hole by now.’
‘Well, never mind. We’re not on it,’ said Snufkin gaily. ‘What’s a kettle here or there when you’re out looking for a comet!’
‘Are they very rare?’ asked the Hemulen who thought they were still talking about moths.
‘Well, yes, I should think you could call them rare,’ answered Snufkin. ‘They appear about once in a hundred years.’
‘No!’ exclaimed the Hemulen. ‘Then I must catch one. What does it look like?’
‘Red probably. With a long tail,’ answered Snufkin.
The Hemulen took out a notebook and wrote this down. ‘It must be the Snufsigalonica family,’ he said seriously. ‘One more question, my learned friends, what does this remarkable insect live on?’
‘On Hemulens,’ said Sniff, giggling.
The Hemulen went red in the face. ‘Little animal,’ he said sternly, ‘that is not funny. I shall now leave – with grave doubts of your scientific knowledge.’ And he put his jars in his pocket, picked up his butterfly-net, and lumbered off.
Sniff doubled up with laughter when the Hemulen was out of earshot. ‘How funny!’ he exploded. ‘The old chap thought we were talking about a beetle or something.’
‘It’s wrong to be disrespectful to elderly gentlemen,’ said Moomintroll severely, not, however, managing to keep a very straight face himself.
But it was getting late, so they picked out the highest mountain and set off towards it.
CHAPTER 6
This is about the adventure with the Eagle and the finding of the Observatory.
IT was late evening. The age-old mountains towered into the sky, their dreaming heads lost in mist, and mist swirled in cold grey-white swathes in the chasms and valleys between. A sudden rift in the swirling vapour revealed once again the threatening sign of the comet cut by some unknown hand in a sheer wall of rock.
Just below one of the peaks could be seen a solitary pinprick of light, and a closer look would have revealed that it was a little yellow silk tent lit up from inside. From the tent came the sound of Snufkin’s mouth-organ, but in this desolate place it was a strange sound indeed. So strange that a hyena some way off, lifted up her nose and howled in the most melancholy fashion.
One member at least of the party in the tent was startled out of his wits. ‘What was that?’ gasped Sniff.
‘Oh, nothing for you to worry about,’ Snufkin reassured him. ‘Listen, what about a story? Did I ever tell you about those Snorks I met a few months ago?’
‘No,’ said Moomintroll eagerly. ‘Whatever are Snorks?’
‘Don’t you really know what a Snork is?’ said Snufkin in amazement. ‘They must be the same family as you I should think, because they look the same, except that they aren’t often white. They can be any colour in the world (like an Easter egg), and they change co lour when they get upset.’
Moomintroll looked quite angry. ‘Well!’ he said. ‘I’ve never heard of that branch of the family. A real Moomintroll is always white. Changing colour indeed! What an idea!’
‘Well, these Snorks were very much
like you anyway,’ said Snufkin calmly. ‘One was pale green and the other was mauve. I met them the time I escaped from prison… But perhaps you don’t want to hear that story?’
‘Oh yes! We do really,’ piped Sniff, but Moomintroll only grunted.
‘Well, it was like this,’ began Snufkin. ‘I had picked a melon for dinner. There was a whole field full of them, you see, and I thought that one more or less wouldn’t make any difference. But the moment I dug my teeth into it, a nasty ugly old man came out of a house nearby, and started to shout at me. I listened for a bit, and then I began to wonder if hearing so many bad words was doing me any good. So I started rolling the melon (which was very big and heavy) along the path in front of me, whistling so that I shouldn’t hear what the old man was saying. Then he shouted that the police would come after me, so I made a scornful noise to show that I wasn’t afraid of the police at all.’
‘How could you dare?’ whispered Sniff in deep admiration.
‘I really can’t think,’ said Snufkin. ‘But now you must listen – that ugly old man was the police! And after dashing into his house to get into his uniform, he began to follow me. I ran and ran and the melon rolled and rolled, until in the end we were going so fast that I didn’t know which was the melon and which was me.’
‘And that was how you landed in prison I suppose?’ said Moomintroll. ‘I suppose it was there you met those creatures – Snorks didn’t you call them?’
‘Don’t interrupt!’ said Snufkin. ‘I was just going to tell you how cold and horrible it was in my cell, what with the spiders and rats. I met the Snorks outside, after I had escaped one moonless night.’
‘Did you climb out of the window with a rope made from your sheets?’ asked Sniff.
‘No, I dug myself out with a tin-opener,’ said Snufkin. ‘Twice I came up too soon, once just behind the guard and another time just inside the prison walls. But I went down and started digging again, and the third time I came up in a field. It was turnips and not melons this time, I’m sorry to say. The Snork and his sister were fishing for minnows with their tails in a nearby stream.’
