CHAPTER XXI
When they could no longer see the hilltop for cloud and mist, Thumb lita second fire on the isle of rock upon the verge of the cataract, wherethe water could not scatter on it. But no sign came of Ghibba and hisfive Moona-men, and Nod began to fret, and could eat no supper, for fearthat some evil had overtaken them. But he said nothing, because he knewwell enough by now that Thumb had much the same stomach for distrust ashimself, though he kept a still tongue in his head, and that it onlyangered him to be pestered with questions no Mulgar-wit could answer. Hesat by the watch-fire in his draggled sheep's-jacket, his hands on hisknees, and wished he had lent Ghibba his Wonderstone. "But no," hethought, "Mutta-matutta bade me 'to no one.' Ghibba is cunning andbrave; he will come back."
The Men of the Mountains coiled themselves up by the fire. They fearneither for themselves nor for one another. "We die because we must,"they say. Yet none the less they raise, as I have said, long ululatorylamentations over their dead, and N[=o][=o]manossi is their enemy asmuch as any Mulgar's. Thimble, still a little weak and hazy in his headafter his sickness, fell quickly asleep; and soon even Thumb, with headwagging from side to side, though he sat bolt upright on his heels infront of the fire, was dozing.
Nod alone could not close his eyes. He watched his brother's great face;lower, lower would drop his chin, wheel round, and start up again with ajerk. "Good dreams, old Thumb," he whispered; "dreams of Salem thatbring him near!"
And all the while that these thoughts were stirring in his head he heardthe endless echoing and answering voices of the cataract. Now theyseemed the voices of Mulgars quarrelling, shouting, and fighting nearand far; and now it seemed as if a thousand thousand birds were singingsweet and shrill beneath the leaves of a great forest. The shadows ofthe fire danced high. But the night was clear. He could see a great bluestar shining right over their thin column of smoke, winding into theair. And now from the ravine into which Ghibba had gone down with hisfive Moona-men the milk-pale mists began softly to overflow, as if froma pot filled to the brim. If only Ghibba would come back!
Nod scrambled up, and rather warily shuffled past the sleepers over tothe other beacon-fire they had kindled. A few strange littlenight-beasts scuttled away as he drew near, attracted by the warmth ofthe fire, or even, perhaps, taking refuge in its shine from thenight-hunting birds that wheeled and whirred in the air above them."Urrckk, urck!" croaked one, swinging so close that Nod felt the fan ofits wings on his cheek. "Starving Mulgars, urrckk, urck!" it croaked.
He heaped up the fire. But he could not see a hand's breadth into theravine. Calm and still the mist lay, and softer than wool. Nod wanderedrestlessly back, passed again the camping Mulgars, and hobbled acrosstill he came to the rocky bank of the torrent near to where it forked.Here a faint reflection of the flamelight fell, and Nod could see thedrowsy fish floating coloured and round-eyed in the sliding water. Andwhile he was standing there, he thought, like the sound of an ooboesinging amid thunder, he seemed to hear on the verge of the roar of thecataract a small wailing voice, not of birds, nor of Mulgars, nor likethe phantom music of Tishnar. He crept softly down and along thewater-side, under a black and enormous dragon-tree. And beneath thegiant sedge he leaned forward his little hairy head, and as hisflame-haunted eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, he perceived in thedark-green dusk in which she sat a Water-midden sitting low among therushes, singing, as if she herself were only music, an odd littlewater-clear song.
"Bubble, Bubble, Swim to see Oh, how beautiful I be.
"Fishes, Fishes, Finned and fine, What's your gold Compared with mine?
"Why, then, has Wise Tishnar made One so lovely, Yet so sad?
"Lone am I, And can but make A little song, For singing's sake."
Her slim hands, her stooping shoulders, were clear and pale as ivory,and Nod could see in the rosy glimmering of the flames her narrow,beautiful face reflected amid the gold of her hair upon the formlesswaters. Mutta-matutta once had told Nod a story about the Water-middenswhom Tishnar had made beyond all things beautiful, and yet whose beautyhad made beyond all things sad. But he could never in the leastunderstand why this was so. When, by the sorcery of his Wonderstone, hehad swept all glittering the night before across the jewelled snow, hehad never before felt so happy. Why, then, was this Water-midden--by howmuch more beautiful than he was then!--why was she not happy, too? Hepeered in his curiosity, with head on one side and blinking eyes, at theWater-midden, and presently, without knowing it, breathed out a long,gruff sigh.
The still Water-midden instantly stayed her singing and looked up athim. Not in the least less fair than the clustering flowers of Tishnar'sorchard was her pale startled face. Her eyes were dark as starry night'sbeneath her narrow brows. She drew her fingers very stealthily acrossthe clear dark water.
"Are you, then, one of those wild wandering Mulgars that light greatfires by night," she said, "and scare all my fishes from sleeping?"
"Yes, Midden; I and my brothers," said Nod. "We light fires because weare cold and hungry. We are wanderers; that is true. But 'wild'--I knownot."
"'Cold,' O Mulgar, and with a jacket of sheep's wool, thick and curled,like that?"
Nod laughed. "It was a pleasant coat when it was new, Midden, but we areold friends now--it and me. And though it keeps me warm enough marchingby day, when night comes, and this never-to-be-forgotten frost sharpens,my bones begin to ache, as did my mother's before me, whose grave noteven Kush can see."
"The Mulgar should live, like me, in the water, then he, too, wouldnever know of cold. Whither do you and your brothers wander, O Mulgar?"
"We have come," said Nod, "from beyond all Munza-mulgar, that lies onthe other side of the river of the saffron-fearing Coccadrilloes--thatis, many score leagues southward of Arakkaboa--and we go to our Uncle,King Assasimmon, Prince of the Valleys of Tishnar--that is, if thatMountain-prince, my friend Ghibba, can find us a way."
The Water-midden looked at Nod, and drew softly, slowly back her smoothgold locks from the slippery water. "The Mulla-mulgar, then, has seengreat dangers?" she said. "He is very young and little to have travelledso far."
Nod's voice grew the least bit glorious. "'Little and young,'" he said."Oh yes. And yet, O beautiful Water-midden, my brothers would neverhave been here without me."
"Tell me why that is," she said, leaning out of her heavy hair.
"Because--because," Nod answered slowly, and not daring to look into herface--"because Queen Tishnar watches over me."
The Water-midden leaned her head. "But Tishnar watches over all," shesaid.
"Why, then, O Midden, has, as your song said, Tishnar made you so sad?"
"Songs are but songs, Mulla-mulgar," she answered. "It is sad seeingonly my own small loneliness in the water. Would not the Mulgar himselfweary with only staring fish for company?"
"Are there, then, no other Water-middens in the river?" said Nod.
"Have you, then, seen any beside me?"
"None," said Nod.
The Water-midden turned away and stooped over the water. "Tell me," shesaid, "why does the Queen Tishnar guard so closely _you_?"
"I am a Nizza-neela, Midden--Mulla-mulgar Ummanodda Nizza-neelaEengenares--that is what I am called, speaking altogether. Other names,too, I have, of course, mocking me. Who is there wise that was not oncefoolish?"
"A Nizza-neela!" said the Midden, leaning back and glancing slyly out ofher dark eyes.
"Oh yes," said Nod gravely; "but besides that I carry with me...."
"Carry with you?" said she.
"Oh, only the Wonderstone," said Nod.
Then the Water-midden lifted both her hands, and scattered back her longpale locks over her narrow shoulders. "The Wonderstone? What, then, isthat?"
Nod told her, though he felt angry with himself, all about theWonderstone, and what magic it had wrought.
"O most marvellous Mulla-mulgar," she said, "I think, if I could see buto
nce this Wonderstone--I think I should be never sad again."
Nod turned away, glancing over his shoulder to where, leaning amid thestars, hung the distant darkness of Mulgarmeerez. He slowly unfastenedhis ivory-buttoned pocket and groped for the Wonderstone. Holding ittight in his bare brown palm, he scrambled down a little nearer to thewater, and unlatched his fingers to show it to the Midden. But now, tohis astonishment, instead of glooming pale as a little moon, it burnedangry as Antares.
The Water-midden peeped out between her hair, and laughed and clappedher hands. "Oh, but if I might but hold it in my hand one moment, Ithink that I should never even sigh again!" said she. Nod's fingersclosed on the Wonderstone again.
"I may not," he said.
"Then," said the Water-midden sorrowfully, "I will not ask."
"My mother told me," said Nod.
But the Water-midden seemed not now to be listening. She began to smoothand sleek her hair, sprinkling the ice-cold water upon it, so that thedrops ran glittering down those slippery paths like dew.
"Midden, Midden," said Nod quickly, "I did not mean to say anyunkindness. You would give me back my Wonderstone very quickly?"
"Oh, but, gentle Mulla-mulgar," said the Midden, "my hands are cold;they might put out its fiery flame."
"I do not think so, most beautiful Midden," Nod said. "Show me yourfingers, and let me see."
Both sly tiny hands, colder than ice-water, the beautiful Water-middenoutstretched towards him. He gazed, stooping out of his ugliness, intothose eyes whose darkness was only shadowy green, clearer than themountain-water. For an instant he waited, then he shut his eyes and putthe burning Wonderstone into those two small icy hands. "Return it to mequickly--quickly, Midden, or Tishnar will be angered against me. Howmust the Meermut of my mother now be mourning!"
But the Midden had drawn back amid the reeds, holding tight the ruby-redstone in her small hands, and her eyes looked all darkened and slant,and her small scarlet mouth was curled. "Can you not trust me but amoment, Prince of the Mulgars?"
And suddenly a loud, hoarse voice broke out: "Nod ho, Nod ho! Ulla ulla!Nod ho!" Nod started back.
"Oh, Midden, Midden!" he said, "it is my brother, Mulla Thumma, callingme. Give me my Wonderstone; I must go at once."
But the Midden was now rocking and floating on the shadowy water, herbright hair sleeking the stream behind her. Her face was all smallmischief. "Let me make magic but once," said she, "and I will return it.Stop, Prince Ummanodda Nizzanares Eengeneela!"
"I cannot wait, not wait. Have pity on me, most beautiful Midden. I didbut put it into your hands for friendship's sake. Return it to me now.Tishnar listens."
"Ummanodda! Ahoh, ahoh, ahoh!" bawled Thumb's harsh voice, comingnearer.
"Oh, harsh and angry voice," cried the Midden, "it frightens me--itfrightens me. To-morrow, in the night-time, Mulla-mulgar, come again. Iwill guard and keep your Wonderstone. Call me, call me. I will come."
There was a sudden pale and golden swirl of water. A light as of amberfloated an instant on the dark, gliding clearness of the torrent. Nodstood up dazed and trembling. The Water-midden was gone. His eyesglanced to and fro. Desolate and strange rose Tishnar's peak. He feltsmall and afraid in the silence of the mountains. And again broke out,hollow and mournful, Thumb's voice calling him. Nod hobbled and hidhimself behind a tree. Then from tree to tree he scurried in, hidingunder great ropes of Cullum and Samarak, until at last, as if he hadbeen wandering in the forest, he came out from behind Thumb.
"What is it, my brother?" he asked softly. "Why do you call me? Here isNod."
Thumb's eyes gladdened, but his face looked black and louring. "Why doyou play such Munza tricks," he said--"hiding from us in the night? Howam I to know what small pieces you may not have been dashed into on thisslippery Arakkaboa? What beasts may not have chosen Mulla-skeeto forsupper? Come back, foolish baby, and have no more of this creeping andhiding!"
Nod burned with shame and rage at his jeers, but he felt too miserableto answer him. He followed slowly after his brother, his small, lean,hungry hand thrust deep into his empty pocket. "O Midden, Midden!" hekept saying to himself; "why were you false to me? What evil did I do toyou that you should have stolen my Wonderstone?"
A thick grey curtain hung over the night, though daybreak must be near.A few heavy hailstones scattered down through the still branches. Andathwart M[=o][=o]t and Mulgarmeerez a distant thunder rolled. "Followquick, Walk-by-night," said Thumb; "a storm is brewing."
The men of the Mountains were all awake, squatting like grasshoppers,and gossiping together close about their watch-fire. Wind swept from themountain-snows, swirling sparks into the air, and streamed moaning intothe ravines. And soon lightning glimmered blue and wan across theroaring clouds of hail, and lit the enormous hills with glimpses oftheir everlasting snows. The travellers sheltered themselves as bestthey could, crouched close to the ground. Nod threw himself down anddrew his sheep-skin over his head. His heart was beating thick and fast.He could think of nothing but his stolen Wonderstone and the dark eyesof the yellow-haired Water-midden. "Tishnar is angry--Tishnar is angry,"he kept whispering, beneath the roar of the hail. "She has forsaken me,Noddle of Pork that Nod is."
The Three Mulla-mulgars Page 21
