Magic by the Lake

by Edward Eager

  "Will it be magic still, after it's been through all that?" said Katharine.

  "Why not? Condensed magic!"

  "It ought to be even stronger, if it's anything like condensed milk!"

  "At least we can try!"

  The four children hung over the dishpan, all talking at once.

  "What in the world are you doing?" said their mother, passing through the room. "You look like witches round a caldron." She went out again.

  "Do you suppose she's begun to notice?" whispered Martha.

  "Probably just a coincidence," said Mark. "Now. Everybody keep calm. Let's plan. Take it slowly. Start big and narrow down. Do we want to go somewhere in time, or just space? Or both?"

  "I never can think what anything means when you put it like that," said Martha. "It sounds too much like schoolwork."

  "We have to keep it wet," said Katharine, who was often of a one-track mind. "What wet things are fun?"

  "Niagara Falls in a barrel? Battle of Trafalgar? Ulysses?" said Jane, reading from one of her many lists.

  "No," said everybody else.

  "Start the other way round," said Mark. "What fun things are wet?"

  "Sailboating," said Jane promptly.

  "Too real," objected Katharine.

  An idea dawned in Mark. "What do you say?" he said, and broke off. His eyes took on a glazed expression.

  'To what?" said Martha.

  "No," muttered Mark. "That wouldn't work."

  "What wouldn't?" said Katharine.

  "On the other hand, though," said Mark, and stopped again.

  "Do you want us to scream?" said Jane.

  "Well," said Mark, "I was just thinking. What' s snow, if it isn't water sort of frozen? And who's ever had really enough snow at one time? And where is there the most of it to be had?"

  "The North Pole!" said Jane.

  "We could see Santa Claus," said Martha. The others were too considerate of her tender youth to comment on this.

  "No," said Mark. "Not the North, that's too tame. But the South one hasn't been discovered yet, hardly."

  "We could find it and claim it for the United States of America," said Katharine, her eyes shining with the spirit of true patriotism.

  "What do you say?" said Mark. "Shall we wish?"

  "It's certainly wet enough," said Jane.

  "Put in about having warm clothes," said Katharine.

  "And not catching cold," said Martha.

  "We could take along hot possets," said Jane.

  There was a pause, while cocoa was hastily brewed. A few moments later, clutching the steaming mugs of it, the four children clustered round the dishpan again.

  "Let's all touch at once," said Katharine. "That'll be more sort of mystic."

  The hands that weren't clutching the cocoa went out toward the dishpan.

  "Look!" said Jane, pointing at the water. Already a thin scum of ice was forming across its top. "It thinks it's a good idea. It wants us to!"

  The next minute all hands had touched and all hearts had wished.

  And the minute after that, the dishpan had disappeared, and the water in it had turned white and frozen and grown bigger and bigger until it was a vast snowy plain, and the four children found themselves seated in the middle of it, suitably bundled up and befurred, and with mugs of cocoa still in their now fur-mittened hands.

  Carrie the cat found herself there, too, through no wish of her own, for Martha had forgotten to put her off her lap.

  "Brr!" said everybody, in the sudden wintry blast, and four noses were buried in four steaming mugs.

  "Whiff!" said Carrie, putting back her whiskers. She took one or two delicate steps across the snowy crust, not sure whether she liked it.

  Thawed by cocoa, the four children stood up and peered around interestedly.

  "Is this all there is to it?" said Martha, looking at snowy whiteness and nothing else as far as the eye could see.

  "What did you expect?" said Mark. "A big post sticking up?"

  "I just thought there might be more to it, somehow," said Martha.

  Still, if the magic said this was the South Pole, this must be it. So Mark, who always had pencils, took one out, and using the eraser end, wrote an inscription in the snow.

  "SOUTH POLE. PROP, OF U.S.A. WE FOUND IT."

  After that he put the date, and they all signed their names. Martha had Carrie sign her pawprint, too. Carrie did not seem to appreciate the privilege. And that seemed to be that.

  But after that there were snowballs to be thrown, and a snowman to be built, and ice to be found and slid on, and if you have ever been transported suddenly from a hot and thundery day in July to the middle of a Winter Sports Carnival in December, you will have some idea of how the next fleeting moments happily passed.

  "Darn!" said Jane. "We should have put in a toboggan while we were wishing!"

  "And skis!" said Katharine.

  "And snowshoes!" said Mark.

  "Who cares?" said Martha. "Let's lie down and make angels." And she and Katharine did.

  It was just as the four children were organizing a game of fox-and-geese (and wishing they'd brought more people along so there'd be enough to play it properly) that the cry was heard in the distance.

  "What was that?" said Jane. "It sounded human."

  "Eskimos!" said Martha.

  "They don't have those here," said Katharine. "That's Alaska."

  "What do they have, then?"

  "They don't. It's uninhabited," said Mark.

  "So far as anyone knows" said Jane.

  Martha's lip trembled. "I don't like things that live where it's uninhabited!"

  Just then the cry was heard again, and nearer now, and as the four children looked around to see where it had come from, a furred and booted figure staggered into view. It seemed to see them, and started forward in a kind of tottering rush, and as it drew nearer, they could see that it was a man. But they couldn't tell much else about him, because his face was covered with about a week's growth of beard. The sight was not a reassuring one, and Martha turned to flee.

  But the man seemed just as upset by them as they were by him. As he came nearer, he stopped short, rubbed his eyes, gave a despairing moan, sank on his knees in the snow, and covered his face with his hands.

  "It's all over. Might as well give up now," he cried in something between a sob and a shudder. "Now I'm seeing things! Angel children dancing in a ring!" He peered between his fingers. "Now they're gone. It's the beginning of the end. My mind's given way. Might as well lie down and die right here!"

  "No, don't do that," said Katharine, ever sympathetic, edging forward to see if she could be of some help.

  "We're not angels," said Mark.

  "We're not even specially good," said Jane.

  "We're just children," said Martha.

  The man groaned and covered his ears. "Now I'm hearing voices!" he said. "I hope the end comes quickly. I can't stand any more!"

  "It's no use," said Mark. "It's that thing of grown-ups noticing a little, but not much. He thinks we're spooks."

  The four children stood looking at the man. And now an expression of even greater horror came over his face, and he gave a terrible cry. He was staring at something beyond them, and they turned and followed his gaze.

  Carrie the cat stepped forward, picking her way elegantly along and waving her tail. And maybe because she hadn't really been part of the wish but had only got into it more or less by accident, the man seemed to see her all too clearly.

  "No!" he cried, waving her away and shutting his eyes to blot out the sight. "No! Scat, you horrid beast! Now I know I'm really crazy! If it were a polar bear now, I might believe it. Or a Saint Bernard dog with a bottle of brandy round its neck!"

  "Poor thing. I wish we had some brandy, don't you?" said Katharine.

  "There's the cocoa," said Jane.

  And now a strange thing happened. The four children could never decide afterwards whether Carrie did it deliberately or not. C
ertainly she had never gone out of her way to be helpful to anyone before. But now she walked majestically over to where the four mugs of cocoa still stood, balanced on the snowy crust where the four children had put them down. She leaned delicately over one of the mugs. There was a sound of lapping.

  The man had followed her, as though hypnotized, and though he didn't see the cocoa (for hot possets had been part of the wish), he heard the lapping. And throwing table manners to the winds, he flung himself down on the snow and sought its source with his mouth. The four children looked away politely.

  And now the man began to laugh hysterically. "Ha ha ha!" he cried. "Cocoa! If it weren't so tragic, it'd be funny. I said I'd find the South Pole or die, but I thought it would be a hero's death. I never thought I'd spend my last hours drinking cocoa with a domestic cat!" But he drank the cocoa.

  And even though it was invisible to him, it seemed to do him good. For he perked up noticeably, and the flush of health began to appear on his wan cheek (such of it as could be seen between whiskers).

  "Now I know what he's doing here," said Mark. "He's an explorer and he's lost. He's trying to find the South Pole."

  "Oh, is that all? Why doesn't he look, then?" said Martha. "It's right behind him."

  "He doesn't notice it," said Katharine. "He doesn't see our inscription, either. It's invisible to him."

  "We could help," said Jane. "We could sort of shove him along with our ghostly unseen hands till he's right on it."

  "No we couldn't," said Mark. "Then he really would go mad. No mortal mind could stand it."

  And it turned out not to be necessary. For now, having drained her half of the mug of cocoa, Carrie started parading slowly toward the inscription Mark had written in the snow. Every few steps she turned and looked over her shoulder at the man. Fascinated, he followed her.

  Carrie reached the spot, sat down on it, and purred. The man came and stood beside her. Suddenly an idea dawned. He took out his compass. He took his bearings. And a great light broke over his face.

  "Eureka!" he cried. "At last, at last! After all these years! Oh, what a lucky fellow I am!" He took out a whistle and blew it. He started shouting and waving his arms.

  "Admiral!" he called. "Fellows! Barriscale, Chelmsford, McAlpine! Here it is! I found it! We've done it! We're successful, we're famous, we're heroes!"

  And from the distance four more figures came staggering into view, furred and booted and bearded and pale and tottering, but with excited grins and joyful flushes marking each face. They ran up to the first man. They took out their compasses. They took their bearings. And then they all began jumping for joy and thumping each other on the back in congratulation and dancing round and round the Pole in delight.

  "How did you ever find this spot in the first place, Fordyce?" said one of the men to the first man.

  "I don't know. Something just seemed to lead me to it," said Fordyce. "Instinct, I guess."

  "Isn't he going to give even Carrie any credit?" said Katharine to Mark.

  Carrie was wreathing herself around the men's leg's now and making conversation.

  "What's that sound?" said the fourth man. "Kind of a meowing and wawling."

  "For a minute I thought I saw a pussycat," said another.

  "But that couldn't be, of course," said still another. "Not in the Antarctic."

  "We don't want to go home saying we saw a thing like that," said the one who seemed to be the Admiral. "Nobody would believe a thing we do say. Nobody would believe we found the Pole at all."

  All of the men were looking straight at Carrie now.

  "I don't see a thing, do you, fellows?" said Fordyce.

  "Not a thing," said all the others.

  "Come on," said the one called the Admiral. "Let's get back to the plane and broadcast the good news home to the States."

  And still clapping each other on the back and rejoicing in their good fortune, they hurried off across the snow.

  "Wait!" called Martha after them. The others didn't even bother.

  "Really!" said Jane. "Some people!"

  "And now I suppose we just go home," said Katharine.

  "No, we don't," said Mark. "Not till sundown. Remember?"

  Everybody looked at the sun. It shone brightly, straight above them. Time passed. They looked at it again. It hadn't moved an inch and didn't look as if it intended to. And then Mark remembered something.

  "Oh-oh," he said. "We're at the South Pole, remember? Didn't you ever hear of the midnight sun? When there is any sun at all down here, it hardly ever sets. Sometimes not for weeks, I guess."

  "And here we are," said Katharine.

  "And here we'll be," said Jane.

  "I want Mother," said Martha.

  After that nobody said anything for a few minutes. "Who wants to throw snowballs?" said Mark finally.

  Nobody did.

  "Now I know where the snows of yesteryear are," said Katharine. "They're all here. They must be."

  "Now I see why people go to Florida in the winter," said Jane. "I for one will never build a snowman again."

  Mark cleared his throat. "O turtle?" he said.

  "Don't be silly," said Jane. "It couldn't come here. It'd freeze."

  "We're here and we're not freezing, are we?" said Mark.

  "Who isn't?" said Martha bitterly.

  At that moment a voice spoke at their elbow. "Hello," it said.

  The four children turned. An odd figure in nun-like black-and-white confronted them.

  "You're a penguin," said Katharine.

  "Naturally," said the penguin.

  Carrie the cat arched her back and hissed. She could not abide a bird.

  "Do you know our turtle? Did it send you to help us? Are penguins magic, too?" said Martha.

  "Don't we look as though we were?" said the penguin. And the four children had to admit that this was true.

  "Wish us home, then," said Martha.

  "Make the sun set," said Katharine.

  "Please," said Mark, either because he had better manners than the others or because he was more tactful.

  "It's not so simple as that," said the penguin.

  "Naturally. It never is," said Jane.

  "As you ought to know by now," agreed the penguin. "However. Just sit there patiently for a bit. Perhaps I'll think of something."

  The four children sat there patiently while the penguin paced up and down, deep in thought. Carrie the cat followed the penguin with her eyes. She crouched low to the ground, her tail lashing. She started forward.

  "Call off this fierce marauding beast," said the penguin. "I can't think when I'm being stalked."

  Martha took Carrie in her lap.

  "That's better," said the penguin. "Now then. Follow me. I have a plan."

  It led the way, and the four children followed, Martha still keeping tight hold of Carrie. Carrie's lip curled in disgust every time she looked at the penguin. Presently they came in sight of an endless-looking windswept sea, with a great mass of ice at its edge.

  "That's probably the Antarctic Ocean," said Mark, who knew about such things. "That's probably a glacier just up ahead."

  Even as he spoke, there was a crash, and a sizable mass of ice detached itself from the shore and went floating away over the cold, vasty deep.

  "Hop on," said the penguin. "The next iceberg leaves in two minutes."

  The four children hopped where it pointed and sat down on cold slipperiness that moved. A few seconds later there was another crash, and a crack appeared between them and the penguin. The crack widened rapidly into a watery gulf, and the four children found themselves sailing away in the wake of the previous iceberg.

  "Good-bye!" they called, waving at the shore. "Thanks a lot!" The penguin flipped a flipper. Carrie uttered a parting snarl.

  And then shore and penguin were lost to view, and there was nothing to be seen on either hand but cold water and other bobbing icebergs.

  "Hard-a-lee!" said Jane. "This is as good as being on a
yacht. Well, almost."

  "My sitting-down part's cold," said Martha. "It's damp, too."

  "Do icebergs always go this fast?" said Katharine. "We're passing all those others already. And I think it's getting warmer."

  "Isn't it?" said Jane. "That penguin must have sent us by special express. We must be getting up in the Temperate Zone already."

  "I think we're shrinking," said Martha. "Look!"

  Jane and Katharine looked. It was true. The edges of their icy float were visibly melting away before their eyes.

  "This is awful," said Jane. "We're down to half-size already. How long do you suppose we'll last?"

  Mark said nothing. He was scanning the horizon. Now he suddenly took off his coat and started waving it. "Ship ahoy!" he called.

  A ship had appeared on the horizon and was steaming swiftly toward them. Soon it was so near that the four children could see the faces of the people who lined the deck. But the faces didn't seem friendly a bit.

  "Keep away!" called the people on the ship. "How dare you run your nasty old iceberg across our course? Don't come any nearer. You'll run us down!"

  And the ship turned in craven flight and hurried away, fearful of being rammed and caved in. "Though for all the damage we could do by now," said Jane, "we might as well be a mere popsicle!"

  It was true. The iceberg had dwindled away till there was barely room for the four of them and Carrie to sit, huddled together as closely as they could huddle. The four children took off the thick coats the magic had provided in order to make more room (and because it was growing so very hot all of a sudden), and the coats sank to a watery grave as the edges of the iceberg melted away under them.

  "Darn!" said Katharine. "I liked mine lots better than my regular winter one."

  "Never mind," said Jane. "They'd probably have vanished at sundown, anyway."

  "Speaking of sun," said Mark, dashing perspiration from his forehead and beginning to take off his shirt, "this must be the tropics. It's hot!"

  "The tropics?" cried Martha in alarm. "You know what they have there, don't you? Sharks!"