was such a large, warm, protecting hand. So pleasant did it feel that
after a little while he began to move his hand up her beautiful, soft,
white arm until it touched her hair. For her hair was unbound and loose;
it was dark, and finer than the finest spun silk, and fell all over her
shoulders and down her back to the stone she sat on. He let his fingers
stray in and out among it; and it felt like the soft, warm down that
lines a little bird's nest to his skin. Finally, he touched her neck and
allowed his hand to rest there, it was such a soft, warm neck. At
length, but reluctantly, for his little rebellious heart was not yet
wholly subdued, he raised his eyes to her face. Oh, how beautiful she
was! Her love and eager desire to win him had flushed her clear olive
skin with rich red colour; out of her sweet red lips, half parted, came
her warm breath on his cheek, more fragrant than wild flowers; and her
large dark eyes were gazing down into his with such a tenderness in them
that Martin, seeing it, felt a strange little shudder pass through him,
and scarcely knew whether to think it pleasant or painful. "Dear child,
I love you so much," she spoke, "will you not call me mother?"
Dropping his eyes and with trembling lips, feeling a little ashamed at
being conquered at last, he whispered "Mother."
She raised him in her arms and pressed him to her bosom, wrapping her
hair like a warm mantle round him; and in less than one minute, overcome
by fatigue, he fell fast asleep in her arms.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: SHE RAISED HIM IN HER ARMS AND PRESSED HIM TO HER BOSOM,
WRAPPING HER HAIR LIKE A WARM MANTLE AROUND HIM.]
[Illustration]
_Chapter Twelve_
_The Little People Underground_
When he awoke Martin found himself lying on a soft downy bed in a dim
stone chamber, and feeling silky hair over his cheek and neck and arms,
he knew that he was still with his new strange mother, the beautiful
Lady of the Mountain. She, seeing him awake, took him up in her arms,
and holding him against her bosom, carried him through a long winding
stone passage, and out into the bright morning sunlight. There by a
small spring of clearest water that gushed from the rock she washed his
scratched and bruised skin, and rubbed it with sweet-smelling unguents,
and gave him food and drink. The great spotted beast sat by them all the
time, purring like a cat, and at intervals he tried to entice Martin to
leave the woman's lap and play with him. But she would not let him out
of her arms: all day she nursed and fondled him as if he had been a
helpless babe instead of the sturdy little run-away and adventurer he
had proved himself to be. She also made him tell her the story of how he
had got lost and of all the wonderful things that had happened to him in
his wanderings in the wilderness--the people of the Mirage, and old
Jacob and the savages, the great forest, the serpent, the owl, the wild
horses and wild man, and the black people of the sky. But it was of the
Mirage and the procession of lovely beings about which he spoke most and
questioned her.
"Do you think it was all a dream?" he kept asking her, "the Queen and
all those people?"
She was vexed at the question, and turning her face away, refused to
answer him. For though at all other times, and when he spoke of other
things, she was gentle and loving in her manner, the moment he spoke of
the Queen of the Mirage and the gifts she had bestowed on him, she
became impatient, and rebuked him for saying such foolish things.
At length she spoke and told him that it was a dream, a very very idle
dream, a dream that was not worth dreaming; that he must never speak of
it again, never think of it, but forget it, just as he had forgotten all
the other vain silly dreams he had ever had. And having said this much a
little sharply, she smiled again and fondled him, and promised that when
he next slept he should have a good dream, one worth the dreaming, and
worth remembering and talking about.
She held him away from her, seating him on her knees, to look at his
face, and said, "For oh, dear little Martin, you are lovely and sweet to
look at, and you are mine, my own sweet child, and so long as you live
with me on the hills, and love me and call me mother, you shall be
happy, and everything you see, sleeping and walking, shall seem strange
and beautiful."
It was quite true that he was sweet to look at, very pretty with his
rosy-white skin deepening to red on his cheeks; and his hair curling all
over his head was of a bright golden chestnut colour; and his eyes were
a very bright blue, and looked keen and straight at you just like a
bird's eyes, that seem to be thinking of nothing, and yet seeing
everything.
After this Martin was eager to go to sleep at once and have the promised
dream, but his very eagerness kept him wide awake all day, and even
after going to bed in that dim chamber in the heart of the hill, it was
a long time before he dropped off. But he did not know that he had
fallen asleep: it seemed to him that he was very wide awake, and that he
heard a voice speaking in the chamber, and that he started up to listen
to it.
"Do you not know that there are things just as strange underground as
above it?" said the voice.
Martin could not see the speaker, but he answered quite boldly:
"No--there's nothing underground except earth and worms and roots. I've
seen it when they've been digging."
"Oh, but there is!" said the voice. "You can see for yourself. All
you've got to do is to find a path leading down, and to follow it.
There's a path over there just in front of you; you can see the opening
from where you are lying."
He looked, and sure enough there _was_ an opening, and a dim passage
running down through the solid rock. Up he jumped, fired at the prospect
of seeing new and wonderful things, and without looking any more to see
who had spoken to him, he ran over to it. The passage had a smooth floor
of stone, and sloped downward into the earth, and went round and round
in an immense spiral; but the circles were so wide that Martin scarcely
knew that he was not travelling in a straight line. Have you by chance
ever seen a buzzard, or stork, or vulture, or some other great bird,
soaring upwards into the sky in wide circles, each circle taking it
higher above the earth, until it looked like a mere black speck in the
vast blue heavens, and at length disappeared altogether? Just in that
way, going round and round in just such wide circles, lightly running
all the time, with never a pause to rest, and without feeling in the
least tired, Martin went on, only down and down and further down,
instead of up and up like the soaring bird, until he was as far under
the mountain as ever any buzzard or crane or eagle soared above it.
[Illustration: FOR A MOMENT OR TWO HE WAS TEMPTED TO TURN AND RUN BACK
INTO THE PASSAGE THROUGH WHICH HE HAD COME.]
Thus running he came at last out of the passage to an open room or space
so wide that, look which way he would, he could see no end to it. The
stone roof of this place was held up by huge stone pillars standing
scattered about like groups of great rough-barked trees, many times
bigger round than hogsheads. Here and there in the roof, or the stone
overhead, were immense black caverns which almost frightened him to gaze
up at them, they were so vast and black. And no light or sun or moon
came down into that deep part of the earth: the light was from big
fires, and they were fires of smithies burning all about him, sending up
great flames and clouds of black smoke, which rose and floated upwards
through those big black caverns in the roof. Crowds of people were
gathered around the smithies, all very busy heating metal and hammering
on anvils like blacksmiths. Never had he seen so many people, nor ever
had he seen such busy men as these, rushing about here and there
shouting and colliding with one another, bringing and carrying huge
loads in baskets on their backs, and altogether the sight of them, and
the racket and the smoke and dust, and the blazing fires, was almost too
much for Martin; and for a moment or two he was tempted to turn and run
back into the passage through which he had come. But the strangeness of
it all kept him there, and then he began to look more closely at the
people, for these were the little men that live under the earth, and
they were unlike anything he had seen on its surface. They were very
stout, strong-looking little men, dressed in coarse dark clothes,
covered with dust and grime, and they had dark faces, and long hair, and
rough, unkempt beards; they had very long arms and big hands, like
baboons, and there was not one among them who looked taller than Martin
himself. After looking at them he did not feel at all afraid of them;
he only wanted very much to know who they were, and what they were
doing, and why they were so excited and noisy over their work. So he
thrust himself among them, going to the smithies where they were in
crowds, and peering curiously at them. Then he began to notice that his
coming among them created a great commotion, for no sooner would he
appear than all work would be instantly suspended; down would go their
baskets and loads of wood, their hammers and implements of all kinds,
and they would stare and point at him, all jabbering together, so that
the noise was as if a thousand cockatoos and parrots and paroquets were
all screaming at once. What it was all about he could not tell, as he
could not make out what they said; he could only see, and plainly
enough, that his presence astonished and upset them, for as he went
about among them they fell back before him, crowding together, and all
staring and pointing at him.
But at length he began to make out what they were saying; they were all
exclaiming and talking about him. "Look at him! look at him!" they
cried. "Who is he? What, Martin--this Martin? Never. No, no, no! Yes,
yes, yes! Martin himself--Martin with nothing on! Not a shred--not a
thread! Impossible--it cannot be! Nothing so strange has ever happened!
_Naked_--do you say that Martin is naked? Oh, dreadful--from the crown
of his head to his toes, naked as he was born! No clothes--no
clothes--oh no, it can't be Martin. It is, it is!" And so on and on,
until Martin could not endure it longer, for he had been naked for days
and days, and had ceased to think about it, and in fact did not know
that he was naked. And now hearing their remarks, and seeing how they
were disturbed, he looked down at himself and saw that it was indeed
so--that he had nothing on, and he grew ashamed and frightened, and
thought he would run and hide himself from them in some hole in the
ground. But there was no place to hide in, for now they had gathered all
round him in a vast crowd, so that whichever way he turned there before
him they appeared--hundreds and hundreds of dark, excited faces,
hundreds of grimy hands all pointing at him. Then, all at once, he
caught sight of an old rag of a garment lying on the ground among the
ashes and cinders, and he thought he would cover himself with it, and
picking it hastily up was just going to put it round him when a great
roar of "No!" burst out from the crowd; he was almost deafened with the
sound, so that he stood trembling with the old dirty rag of cloth in his
hand. Then one of the little men came up to him, and snatching the rag
from his hand, flung it angrily down upon the floor; then as if afraid
of remaining so near Martin, he backed away into the crowd again.
Just then Martin heard a very low voice close to his ear speaking to
him, but when he looked round he could see no person near him. He knew
it was the same voice which had spoken to him in the cave where he
slept, and had told him to go down into that place underground.
"Do not fear," said the gentle voice to Martin. "Say to the little men
that you have lost your clothes, and ask them for something to put on."
Then Martin, who had covered his face with his hands to shut out the
sight of the angry crowd, took courage, and looking at them, said, half
sobbing, "O, Little Men, I've lost my clothes--won't you give me
something to put on?"
This speech had a wonderful effect: instantly there was a mighty rush,
all the Little Men hurrying away in all directions, shouting and
tumbling over each other in their haste to get away, and by-and-by it
looked to Martin as if they were having a great struggle or contest over
something. They were all struggling to get possession of a small closed
basket, and it was like a game of football with hundreds of persons all
playing, all fighting for possession of the ball. At length one of them
succeeded in getting hold of the basket and escaping from all the others
who opposed him, and running to Martin he threw it down at his feet, and
lifting the lid displayed to his sight a bundle of the most beautiful
clothes ever seen by child or man. With a glad cry Martin pulled them
out, but the next moment a very important-looking Little Man, with a
great white beard, sprang forward and snatched them out of his hand.
"No, no," he shouted. "These are not fit for Martin to wear! They will
soil!" Saying which, he flung them down on that dusty floor with its
litter of cinders and dirt, and began to trample on them as if in a
great passion. Then he snatched them up again and shook them, and all
could see that they were unsoiled and just as bright and beautiful as
before. Then Martin tried to take them from him, but the other would not
let him.
"Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes," shouted the old man. "They
will not even keep out the wet," and with that he thrust them into a
great tub of water, and jumping in began treading them down with his
feet. But when he pulled them out again and shook them before their
faces, all saw that they were as dry and bright as before.
"Give them to me!" cried Martin, thinking that it was all right now.
"Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes--they will not resist fire,"
cried the old man, and into the flames he flung them.
Martin now gave up all hopes of possessing them, and was ready to burst
into tears at their loss, when out of the fire they were pulled again,
and it was seen that the flames had not injured or tarnished them in the
least. Once more Martin put out his arms and this time he was allowed to
take those beautiful clothes, and then just as he clasped them to him
with a cry of delight he woke!
His head was lying on his new mother's arm, and she was awake watching
him.
"O, mother, what a nice dream I had! O such pretty clothes--why did I
wake so soon?"
She laughed and touched his arms, showing him that they were still
clasping that beautiful suit of clothes to his breast--the very clothes
of his wonderful dream!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Chapter Thirteen_
_The Great Blue Water_
There was not in all that land, nor perhaps in all the wide world, a
happier little boy than Martin, when after waking from his sleep and
dream he dressed himself for the first time in that new suit, and went
out from the cave into the morning sunlight. He then felt the comfort of
such clothes, for they were softer than the finest, softest down or silk
to his skin, and kept him warm when it was cold, and cool when it was
hot, and dry when it rained on him, and the earth could not soil them,
nor the thorns tear them; and above everything they were the most
beautiful clothes ever seen. Their colour was a deep moss green, or so
it looked at a little distance, or when seen in the shade, but in the
sunshine it sparkled as if small, shining, many-coloured beads had been
sewn in the cloth; only there were no beads; it was only the shining
threads that made it sparkle so, like clean sand in the sun. When you
looked closely at the cloth, you could see the lovely pattern woven in
it--small leaf and flower, the leaves like moss leaves, and the flowers
like the pimpernel, but not half so big, and they were yellow and red
and blue and violet in colour.
But there were many, many things besides the lovely clothes to make him
contented and happy. First, the beautiful woman of the hills who loved
and cherished him and made him call her by the sweet name of "mother" so
many times every day that he well nigh forgot she was not his real
mother. Then there was the great stony hillside on which he now lived
for a playground, where he could wander all day among the rocks,
overgrown with creepers and strange sweet-smelling flowers he had never
seen on the plain below. The birds and butterflies he saw there were
different from those he had always seen; so were the snakes which he
often found sleepily coiled up on the rocks, and the little swift
lizards. Even the water looked strange and more beautiful than the water
in the plain, for here it gushed out of the living rock, sparkling like
crystal in the sun, and was always cold when he dipped his hands in it
even on the hottest days. Perhaps the most wonderful thing was the
immense distance he could see, when he looked away from the hillside
across the plain and saw the great dark forest where he had been, and
the earth stretching far, far away beyond.
Then there was his playmate, the great yellow-spotted cat, who followed
him about and was always ready for a frolic, playing in a very curious
way. Whenever Martin would prepare to take a running leap, or a swift
run down a slope, the animal, stealing quietly up behind, would put out
a claw from his big soft foot--a great white claw as big as an owl's
beak--and pull him suddenly back. At last Martin would lose his temper,
and picking up a stick would turn on his playmate; and away the animal
would fly, pretending to be afraid, and going over bushes and big stones
with tremendous leaps to disappear from sight on the mountain side. But
very soon he would steal secretly back by some other way to spring upon
Martin unawares and roll him over and over on the ground, growling as if
angry, and making believe to worry him with his great white teeth,
although never really hurting him in the least. He played with Martin
just as a cat plays with its kitten when it pretends to punish it.
When ever Martin began to show the least sign of weariness the Lady of
the Hills would call him to her. Then, lying back among the ferns, she
would unbind her long silky tresses to let him play with them, for this
was always a delight to him. Then she would gather her hair up again and
dress it with yellow flowers and glossy dark green leaves to make
herself look more lovely than ever. At other times, taking him on her
shoulders, she would bound nimbly as a wild goat up the steepest places,
springing from crag to crag, and dancing gaily along the narrow ledges
of rock, where it made him dizzy to look down. Then when the sun was
near setting, when long shadows from rocks and trees began to creep over
the mountain, and he had eaten the fruits and honey and other wild
delicacies she provided, she would make him lie on her bosom. Playing
with her loose hair and listening to her singing as she rocked herself
on a stone, he would presently fall asleep.
In the morning on waking he would always find himself lying still
clasped to her breast in that great dim cavern; and almost always when
he woke he would find her crying. Sometimes on opening his eyes he would
find her asleep, but with traces of tears on her face, showing that she
had been awake and crying.
One afternoon, seeing him tired of play and hard to amuse, she took him
in her arms and carried him right up the side of the mountain, where it
grew so steep that even the big cat could not follow them. Finally she
brought him out on the extreme summit, and looking round he seemed to
see the whole world spread out beneath him. Below, half-way down, there
were some wild cattle feeding on the mountain side, and they looked at
that distance no bigger than mice. Looking eastwards he beheld just
beyond the plain a vast expanse of blue water extending leagues and
leagues away until it faded into the blue sky. He shouted with joy when
he saw it, and could not take his eyes from this wonderful world of
water.
"Take me there--take me there!" he cried.
She only shook her head and tried to laugh him out of such a wish; but
by-and-by when she attempted to carry him back down the mountain he
refused to move from the spot; nor would he speak to her nor look up
into her pleading face, but kept his eyes fixed on that distant blue
ocean which had so enchanted him. For it seemed to Martin the most
wonderful thing he had ever beheld.
At length it began to grow cold on the summit; then with gentle
caressing words she made him turn and look to the opposite side of the
heavens, where the sun was just setting behind a great mass of
clouds--dark purple and crimson, rising into peaks that were like hills
of rose-coloured pearl, and all the heavens beyond them a pale
primrose-coloured flame. Filled with wonder at all this rich and varied
colour he forgot the ocean for a moment, and uttered an exclamation of
delight.
"Do you know, dear Martin," said she, "what we should find there, where
it all looks so bright and beautiful, if I had wings and could fly with
you, clinging to my bosom like a little bat clinging to its mother when
she flies abroad in the twilight?"
"What?" asked Martin.
"Only dark dark clouds full of rain and cutting hail and thunder and
lightning. That is how it is with the sea, Martin: it makes you love it
when you see it at a distance; but oh, it is cruel and treacherous, and
when it has once got you in its power then it is more terrible than the
thunder and lightning in the cloud. Do you remember, when you first came
to me, naked, shivering with cold, with your little bare feet blistered
and bleeding from the sharp stones, how I comforted you with my love,
and you found it warm and pleasant lying on my breast? The sea will not
comfort you in that way; it will clasp you to a cold, cold breast, and
kiss you with bitter salt lips, and carry you down where it is always
dark, where you will never never see the blue sky and sunshine and
flowers again."
Martin shivered and nestled closer to her; and then while the shadows of
evening were gathering round them, she sat rocking herself to and fro on
a stone, murmuring many tender, sweet words to him, until the music of
her voice and the warmth of her bosom made him sleep.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Chapter Fourteen_
_The Wonders of the Hills_
Now, although Martin had gone very comfortably to sleep in her arms and
found it sweet to be watched over so tenderly, he was not the happy
little boy he had been before the sight of the distant ocean. And she
knew it, and was troubled in her mind, and anxious to do something to
make him forget that great blue water. She could do many things, and
above all she could show him new and wonderful things in the hills where
she wished to keep him always with her. To caress him, to feed and watch
over him by day, and hold him in her arms when he slept at night--all
that was less to him than the sight of something new and strange; she
knew this well, and therefore determined to satisfy his desire and make
his life so full that he would always be more than contented with it.
In the morning he went out on the hillside, wandering listlessly among
the rocks, and when the big cat found him there and tried to tempt him
to a game he refused to play, for he had not yet got over his
disappointment, and could think of nothing but the sea. But the cat did
not know that anything was the matter with him, and was more determined
to play than ever; crouching now here, now there among the stones and
bushes, he would spring out upon Martin and pull him down with its big
paws, and this so enraged him that picking up a stick he struck
furiously at his tormentor. But the cat was too quick for him; he dodged
the blows, then knocked the stick out of his hand, and finally Martin,
to escape from him, crept into a crevice in a rock where the cat could
not reach him, and refused to come out even when the Lady of the Hills
came to look for him and begged him to come to her. When at last,
compelled by hunger, he returned to her, he was silent and sullen and
would not be caressed.
He saw no more of the cat, and when next day he asked her where it was,
she said that it had gone from them and would return no more--that she
had sent it away because it had vexed him. This made Martin sulk, and he
would have gone away and hidden himself from her had she not caught him
up in her arms. He struggled to free himself, but could not, and she
then carried him away a long distance down the mountainside until they
came to a small dell, green with creepers and bushes, with a deep
carpet of dry moss on the ground, and here she sat down and began to
talk to him.