At last, after fixing a lighted torch between the logs of each raft, the
Mulgars began to get aboard. On the first Ghibba and Thimble embarked,
squatting the one in front and the other astern, to keep their craft
steady. With big torches smoking in the sunshine, they pushed off.
Tugging on a long strand of Samarak which they had looped around the
smooth branch of a Boobab, they warped themselves free. Soon well
adrift, with water singing in their green twigs, they slid swiftly into
the stream, shoving and pulling at their long poles, beating the green
water to foam, as they neared the fork, to keep their dancing catamaran
from drifting into the surge that would have toppled them over the
cataract. The rest of the travellers stood stock-still by the
water-side, gazing beneath their hands after the green ship and its two
sailors, dark and light, brandishing their poles. They followed along
the bank as far as they could, standing lean in the evening beams,
wheezing shrilly, "Illaloothi, Illaloothi!" as Moona and Mulla-mulgar
floated into the mouth of the cavern and vanished from sight.
One after another the rest swept off, their rafts dancing light as corks
on the emerald water, each with its flaming torch fast fixed, and its
two struggling Mulgars tugging at their long water-poles. And as each
raft drifted beneath the lowering arch of the cavern, the Mulgars aboard
her raised aloft their poles for farewell to Mulgarmeerez. Last of all
Thumb loosed his mooring-rope, and with the baggage-raft in tow cast off
with Nod into the stream. Pale sunshine lay on the evening frost and
gloom of the forests, and far in the distance wheeled Kippel, capped
with snow, as the raft rocked round the curve and floated nearer and
nearer to the cavern. Nod squatted low at the stern, his pole now idly
drifting, while behind him bobbed the baggage-raft, tethered by its rope
of Cullum. He stared into the flowing water, and it seemed out of its
deeps, faintly echoing, rang the voice of the sorrowful Water-midden,
bidding him farewell. And when Thumb's back was for a moment turned, he
tore out of the tousled wool of his jacket another of his ivory buttons,
and, lying flat in the leafy twigs, dropped it softly into the stream.
"There, little brother," he whispered to the button, "tell the beautiful
Midden I remembered her last of all things when the hoarse-voiced
Mulgars sailed away!"
Green and dark and utterly still Arakkaboa's southern forests drew
backward, with the westering sun beaming hazily behind their nameless
peaks. Nod heard a sullen wash of water, the picture narrowed, faded,
darkened, and in a moment they were floating in an inky darkness, lit
only by the dim and wavering light of the torches.
The cavern widened as the rafts drew inward. But the Mulgars with their
poles drove them into the middle of the stream, for here the current ran
faster, and they feared their leafy craft might be caught by overhanging
rocks near the cavern walls. A host of long-eared bats, startled from
sleep by the echoing cries and splashings, and the smoke of the torches,
unhooked their leathery hoods, and, mousily glancing, came flitting this
way, that way, squeaking shrilly as if scolding the hairy sailors. They
reminded Nod of the chattering troops of Skeetoes swinging on their
frosty ropes in the gloom of Munza-mulgar. When with smoother water the
raftsmen's shouts were hushed, a strange silence swept down upon the
travellers. Nod glanced up uneasily at the faintly shimmering roof hung
with pale spars. Only the sip and whisper of the water could be heard,
and the faint crackle of the dry torch-wood. Thumb flapped the water
impatiently with his long pole. "Ugh, Ummanodda, this hole of darkness
chills my bones. Sing, child, sing!"
"What shall I sing, Thumb?"
"Sing that jingling lingo the blood-supping Oomgar-mulgar taught you.
How goes it?--'Pore Benoleben.'"
So in the dismal water-caverns of Arakkaboa Nod sang out in his seesaw
voice, to please his brother, Battle's old English song, "Poor Ben, old
Ben."
"Widecks awas'
Widevry sea,
An' flyin' scud
For companee,
Ole Benporben
Keepz watcherlone:
Boatz, zails, helmaimust,
Compaz gone.
"Not twone ovall
'Is shippimuts can
Pipe pup ta prove
'Im livin' man:
One indescuppers
Flappziz 'and,
Fiss-like, as you
May yunnerstand.
"An' one bracedup
Azzif to weat,
'Az aldy deck
For watery zeat;
Andwidda zteep
Unwonnerin' eye
Ztares zon tossed sea
An' emputy zky.
Pore Benoleben,
Pore-Benn-ole-Ben!"
When Nod's last quavering drawl had died away, Thumb lifted up his own
hoarse, grating voice in the silence that followed, and as if with one
consent, the travellers broke into "Dubbuldideery."
It seemed as if the walls would shatter and the roof come tumbling down
at their prodigious hullabaloo. The bats raced to and fro. Scores of
fishes pushed up their snouts round Nod's raft, and gazed with curious
faces into the torchlight. The water was all astir with their
disquietude. But in the midst of the song there sounded a shrill and
hasty cry: "Down all!"
Only just in time had Ghibba seen their danger, and almost before the
shrill echo had died away, and Thimble had cast himself flat, their raft
was swirled under a huge rock, blossoming with quartz, that hung down
almost to the surface of the water. Thimble's jacket was ripped collar
to hem as he slid under, lying as close as he could. And the bobbing
raft of baggage behind them was torn away in a twinkling, so that now
all the food and torches the Mulgars had was what each carried for
himself. They dared not stir nor lift their heads, for still the fretted
roof arched close above the water. And so they drifted on and on, their
torches luckily burnt low, until at length the cavern widened, the roof
lifted, and they burst one by one into a great chamber of smooth water,
its air filled strangely with a faint phosphorescence, so that every
spar and jag of rock gleamed softly with coloured light as they paddled
their course slowly through. In this great chamber they stayed awhile,
for there was scarcely any current of water against its pillared sides.
With their rafts clustering and moored together, they shared out equally
what nuts, dry fruit, and unutterably mouldy cheese remained, and
divided the torches equally between them, except that Ghibba, who led
the way, had two for every one of the others.
These thin grey waters swarmed with fish, but all, it seemed, nearly
blind, with scarcely visible eyes above their snouts. Some of the bigger
fish, with clapping jaws, cast themselves in range or hunger against the
rafts. And the Mulgars, seeing their teeth, took good heed to couch
themselves close in the midst of their rafts. The longer they stayed,
the thicker grew the concourse of fish drawn together by the noise and
smell of the travellers, until the cavern echoed with their restless
fins and a kind of supping whisper, as if the fish had speech. So the
Mulgars pushed off again, laying about them with their poles to scare
the bolder monsters off as they gilded softly into the sluggish current,
until the channel narrowed again, and their speed freshened.
On and on they drifted. On and on the shimmering walls floated past
them, now near, now distant. They lost all time. Some said night must be
gone; some said nay, night must have come again; and to some it seemed
like an evil dream, this drifting, without beginning or end. When sleep
began to hang heavily on Thumb's eyelids, he bade Nod lie down and take
his fill of it first, while he himself kept watch. Nod very gladly lay
down as comfortably as he could on the rough and narrow raft, and Thumb
for safety tied him close with a strand of Cullum. He dreamed a hundred
dreams, rocked softly on the sliding raft, all of burning sunshine, or
wild white moonlight, or of icy and dazzling Witzaweelw[=u]lla; but the
Water-midden's beauty haunted all.
He woke into almost pitch-black gloom, and, starting up, could count
only four torches staining the unrippling water with their flare. And,
being very thirsty, he stooped over with hollowed hand, as if to drink.
"No, no," said Thumb drowsily; "not drink, Nod. Sleepy water--sleepy
water. Moona-mulgars there, drunk and drunk; thirstier and thirstier,
torches out--all dead asleep--all dead asleep."
"But my tongue's crackling dry, Thumb. Drink I must, Thumb."
"Nutshells," said Thumb--"suck nutshells, suck them."
Nod took out the last few nuts he had. And in the faint glowing of the
distant torches he could see Thumb's great broad-nosed face turned
hungrily towards them.
"How many nuts left have you, my brother?" Nod said.
Thumb tapped his stomach. "Safe, safe all," he said. "Nod slept on and
on."
"Why did you not wake me, Thumb? Lie down now. I am not hungry, only a
little thirsty. Have these few crackle-shells before you sleep, old
Thumb." He gave Thumb nine out of his thirteen nuts, and partly because
he was ravenously hungry, partly because their oiliness a little
assuaged his thirst, Thumb crunched them up hastily, shells and all.
Then he lay down on the raft, and Nod tied his great body on as safely
as he could.
There seemed to be some tribe of creatures dwelling in this darkness.
For Thumb had but a little while lain down, when the stream bore the
rafts along a smoother wall of rock, which rose, as it were, to a ledge
or shelf; and all along this rocky shelf Nod could see dim, rounded
holes, of a breadth to take with ease the body of a Mullabruk or
Manquabee. He fancied even he saw here and there shadowy figures
stooping out. And now and then in the hush he heard a flappity rustle,
as of some hairy creature scampering quickly along the ledge on four
naked feet. But he called and called in vain. No answer followed, except
a feeble hail from Thimble's raft far ahead, with its torches feebly
twinkling.
Only three of the nine rafts now showed lights, and the last of these
had drifted in, and become entangled in some jutting rock or in the
long, leathery weed that hung like lichen-coloured grass along the sides
of the cavern. As Nod drew slowly near, he saw that on this raft both
its Mulgars lay flat on their faces, lost in their second sleep from
drinking of the water. He pushed hard at his long pole, and, leaning
over, caught their strand of trailing Samarak, and hauled the raft
safely into mid-stream again. He stirred and pommelled the Mulgars with
his pole. But they made no sign of feeling, except that their mouths
fell a little ajar. Then he lit the last but one of his own torches by
the failing flame of theirs. But it hovered sullen and blue. The air was
thick. Each breath he took was heavy as a sigh. He was shrunk very
meagre with travel, and his little breathing bosom was nothing but a
slender cage of bones above his heart. He crouched down in the
whispering solitude. His lips were cracked, his tongue like tinder. He
mumbled his shells in vain between his teeth. But from first sleep to
the second sleep is but a little journey, and thence to the last the way
runs all downhill.
He chafed his eyes, he clenched his teeth, he crooned wheezily all the
songs Battle had taught him. And now once more the cavern opened into a
wide and still lagoon, over whose grey floor phantom lights moved
cloudily before the advancing rafts. Its roof wanly blazed with
crystals. And there was no doubt now of Mulgar inhabitants. They sat
unmoved upon their rocky ledges and parapets, with puffed-out, furry
bodies and immense round, lustrous eyes, with which they steadily
surveyed the worn and matted Mulgars, some stretched in stupid slumber,
some fevered and famished, with burning eyes, drifting slowly past their
glistening grottoes. But none so much as stirred a finger or paid any
heed to the Mulgars' entreaties for food. Only their long ears, which
peaked well out of their wool, twitched and nodded, as if their
ducketings were a kind of secret language between them.
Nod's raft swam last across this weed-mantled lagoon amid the moving
light-wisps. He called with swollen tongue: "O ubjar moose soofree!
ubjar, ubjar, moose soofree!" But there came no answer, not the least
stir in the creatures; only the owl-eyes stared steadily on. He lifted
himself on trembling legs, and called: "Walla, walla!"
These Arakkaboans only gloated on him, and slowly turned their round
heads, still twitching their ears at one another, as if in some strange
talk.
And Nod fell into a Munza rage at sight of them. He danced and gibbered,
and at last caught up his long water-pole, as if to strike at them; but
it was too heavy for him after his long thirst; he over-balanced, threw
out the pole, and fell headlong on to the raft. Thumb muttered in his
sleep, wagging his head. And with parched lips, so close to that
faint-smelling water, Nod could bear his thirst no longer. He leaned
over, cupped his hands, and sucked in one, two, three delicious
mouthfuls. Water, cavern, staring Arakkaboans, seemed to float away into
the distance, as in a dream. And in a little while, with head lolling at
Thumb's feet, he lay faintly snoring beside his brother.
* * * * *
Out of the heaviness of that long sleep Nod opened his eyes, to find
Thumb's great body stooping over him with anxious face, shaking and
pommelling him, and muttering harshly: "Wake, wake, Nugget of clay!
Wake, Mulla-slugga! The Valleys! The Valleys, little Ummanodda! Taste,
taste! Ummuz, ummuz, UMMUZ!"
Something sweeter than honey, something that at one taste wakened in
memory Mutta, and Seelem, and the little Portingal's hut, and Glint's
towering Ukka-tree, and all his childhood, was pushed between his teeth.
Nod sneezed three times, struggled, and sat up.
For a moment the light blinded him. Then at last he saw all among a long
low stretch of rushes, in still, green water, between the rafts, a
picture of the sky. A crescent moon hung like a shell in the pale green
quiet of daybreak. He scrambled to his feet, still gnawing his
Ummuz-cane. He saw Thimble mumbling like a hungry dog over his food, and
the lean shapes of the Moona-mulgars shuffling to and fro. On one side
rose the forests of the northern slopes of Arakkaboa. A warm, sweet wind
was moving with daybreak, and only on the heights next the green of the
sky shone Tishnar's unchanging snows. Flowers bloomed everywhere around
him, not vanishing flowers of magic now. And as far as his round eyes
could see, golden with Ummuz and Immamoosa, and silver with dreaming
waters, stretched the long-sought, lovely Valleys of Tishnar. This,
then, was the Mulgars' journey's end!
Nod flung himself down in the long grasses, and cried as if his heart
would break. And still with his oozy stick of Ummuz clutched between his
fingers, he fell asleep.
But soon came Ghibba to waken him. Thumb and Thimble and all the
Moona-mulgars were squatting together round a little fire they had
kindled beneath an enormous tree by the water-side. Bees, that might,
indeed, be honey-makers from Assasimmon's hives, were droning in the
tree-blossoms overhead, and tiny Tominiscoes flitting among the
branches. It was a wonder, indeed, that birds should draw near such
scarecrow travellers. More like the N[=o][=o]mad of Jack-Alls they sat
than honest Mulgars; some toasting the last paring of their beloved
cheese to eat with their Nanoes, some with stones pounding Ummuz, some
at their scratching and combing, and one or two worn out, bonily
sprawling in the comfort of the sunbeams streaming upon them now from
far across Arakkaboa.
Beneath them lay the shallows of the green lagoon in the morning. But
near at hand rose up a gigantic grove of Ollacondas into the windless
sky, so that beyond these the travellers could see nothing of the
farther country.
When they had eaten and drunk, and were well rested, Thumb and Nod,
taking again cudgels in their hands, started off towards the hills that
rose above the cavern, of purpose, if need be, to climb into the higher
branches of some tree, from which they might descry, perhaps, what lay
on the other side of this great grove.
Through the thick dews they stumped along together, their eyes roving
this way and that, in wonder and curiosity of their way. And in a while
they had climbed up through the thick undergrowth on to a wide green
ledge, on which were playing and scampering in the fresh shadows a host
of a kind of Weddervols, but smaller and furrier than those of Munza.
And now they could see beneath them the huge arch through which their
rafts had floated out while they lay snoring.
White flocks of long-legged water-birds were preening their wings in the
shadows, in which rock and boughs and farthest snow stood glassed. There
the two Mulgars stood, ragged and worn, snuffing the sweet air, while a
faint surge of singing rose from the forests above their heads.
"It is a big nest Tishnar's water-birds build," said Nod suddenly.
Thumb's great head turned on his stooping shoulders, and, with mouth
ajar, he stared long and closely at what seemed to be a heap of tangled
boughs washed up in the water far beneath them.
"No nest, Ummanodda," he said at last; "it is some Mulgar's tree-roost
fallen into the water. Its leaves are dry, and the feet of that
long-legs stand deep in Spider-flower."
"To my eyes," said Nod slowly, "it looks to me, Thumb, just like such
another as one of our water-rafts."
"Wait here a little while, Nizza-neela," grunted Thumb suddenly; "I go
down to look for eggs."
Nod watched his brother pushing his way down through the sedge and
trailing Samarak. "Eggs," he whispered--"eggs!" and broke out into his
little yapping laughter, though he knew not why he laughed.
Up, up, on sounding wings flew a bird as white as snow from its lodging
as Thumb drew near. And there he was, stooping, paddling, pushing with
his cudgel, and peering into the tangle at the water-side.
Nod turned his head, filled with a sudden weariness and loneliness. And
in the silence of the beautiful mountains he fell sad, and a little
afraid, as do even Oomgar travellers resting awhile in the journey that
has no end.
Out of his Mulgar dreams he was startled by a sudden, sharp, short
Mulgar bark from far beneath, that might be fear or might be sudden
gladness.
And, in a moment, Thumb, having cast down his cudgel, and with something
clutched in his great hand, was swinging and scrambling back through the
thick, flowery undergrowth of the hillside by the way he had come.
Nod watched him, with head thrust forward and side-long, and at last he
drew near, sweating and coughing.
"S[=o][=o]tli, s[=o][=o]tli!" he muttered. "Magic, magic!" and held out
in the sunlight an old red, rotted gun.
Rusty, choked with earth, its butt smashed, its lock long gone, the two
Mulgars stood with the gun between them.
"Oomgar's gun, Thumb?--Oomgar's?" grunted Nod at last.
Thumb opened wide his mouth, still panting and trembling.
"Noos unga unka, Portingal, Ummanodda. Seelem arggutchkin! Seelem! kara,
kara! Seelem mugleer!"
And even as that last Seelem was uttered, and back to Nod's mind came
that morning leagues, leagues away, and himself sitting on his father's
shoulder, clutching the long cold barrel of the little Portingal's
gun--even at that moment a faint halloo came echoing across the steeps,
and, turning, the Mulla-mulgars saw climbing towards them between the
trees Thimble and Ghibba. But not only these. For between them walked
on high in a high, hairy cup, with a band of woven scarlet about his
loins, and a basket of honeycombs over his shoulder, a Mulgar of a
presence and a strangeness, who was without doubt of the Kingdom of
Assasimmon.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: ... A MULGAR OF A PRESENCE AND A STRANGENESS, WHO WAS
WITHOUT DOUBT OF THE KINGDOM OF ASSASIMMON.]
ENVOY
"Long--long is Time, though books be brief:
Adventures strange--ay, past belief--
Await the Reader's drowsy eye;
But, wearied out, he'd lay them by.
"But, if so be he'd some day hear
All that befell these brothers dear
In Tishnar's lovely Valleys--well,
Poor pen, thou must that story tell!
"But farewell, now, you Mulgars three!
Farewell, your faithful company!
Farewell, the heart that loved unbidden--
Nod's dark-eyed, beauteous Water-midden!"
A NOTE ON THE TYPE IN WHICH THIS BOOK IS SET
_This book is composed (on the Linotype), in Scotch. There is a
divergence of opinion regarding the exact origin of this face, some
authorities holding that it was first cut by Alexander Wilson & Son, of
Glasgow, in 1837; others trace it back to a modernized Caslon old style
brought out by Mrs. Henry Caslon in 1796 to meet the demand for modern
faces brought about by the popularity of the Bodoni types. Whatever its
origin, it is certain that the face was widely used in Scotland, where
it was called Modern Roman, and since its introduction into America it
has been known as Scotch. The essential characteristics of the Scotch
face are its sturdy capitals, its full rounded lower case, the graceful
fillet of its serifs and the general effect of crispness._
[Illustration]
SET UP, ELECTROTYPED, PRINTED, AND
BOUND BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC.,
BINGHAMPTON, N.Y. · ILLUSTRATION
PLATES ENGRAVED AND PRINTED BY
ZEESE-WILKINSON COMPANY, INC.,
LONG ISLAND CITY, N.Y. ·
PAPER MANUFACTURED BY THE
TICONDEROGA PULP AND
PAPER CO., TICONDEROGA,
N.Y., AND FURNISHED
BY W. F. ETHERINGTON
& CO., NEW YORK.
Transcriber's Note:
In the List of Illustrations, closing quotation marks have been
added to "with fingers of frost" and "enchanted orchards of Tishnar".
Spelling and punctuation have been retained as in the original
publication except as follows:
Page 23
sibbetha eena manga Môh!" _changed to_
sibbetha eena manga Môh!'"
Page 45
through the green twlight _changed to_
through the green twilight
Page 62
as for the Water-midden's song _changed to_
as for the Water-middens' song
Page 73
said the Fish-catcher." _changed to_
said the Fish-catcher.
Page 113
awhile with this Oongar _changed to_
awhile with this Oomgar
Page 128
shakes noonday with fear _changed to_
shakes noonday with fear,
shakes noonday with fear changed to
shakes noonday with fear.
Page 233
and runing over with _changed to_
and running over with
Page 245
and your brothers, wander _changed to_
and your brothers wander
Page 258
seven time round Nod's left _changed to_
seven times round Nod's left
Page 273
as do even Ooomgar _changed to_
as do even Oomgar
End of Project Gutenberg's The Three Mulla-mulgars, by Walter De La Mare