Derba and Barbara
Meantime the wanderers were hospitably entertained by the old woman and
her grandchild and they were all very comfortable and happy together.
Little Barbara sat upon Curdie's knee, and he told her stories about
the mines and his adventures in them. But he never mentioned the king
or the princess, for all that story was hard to believe. And he told
her about his mother and father, and how good they were. And Derba sat
and listened. At last little Barbara fell asleep in Curdie's arms, and
her grandmother carried her to bed.
It was a poor little house, and Derba gave up her own room to Curdie
because he was honest and talked wisely. Curdie saw how it was, and
begged her to allow him to lie on the floor, but she would not hear of
it.
In the night he was waked by Lina pulling at him. As soon as he spoke
to her she ceased, and Curdie, listening, thought he heard someone
trying to get in. He rose, took his mattock, and went about the house,
listening and watching; but although he heard noises now at one place
now at another, he could not think what they meant for no one appeared.
Certainly, considering how she had frightened them all in the day, it
was not likely any one would attack Lina at night. By and by the
noises ceased, and Curdie went back to his bed, and slept undisturbed.
In the morning, however, Derba came to him in great agitation, and said
they had fastened up the door, so that she could not get out. Curdie
rose immediately and went with her: they found that not only the door,
but every window in the house was so secured on the outside that it was
impossible to open one of them without using great force. Poor Derba
looked anxiously in Curdie's face. He broke out laughing.
'They are much mistaken,' he said, 'if they fancy they could keep Lina
and a miner in any house in Gwyntystorm--even if they built up doors
and windows.'
With that he shouldered his mattock. But Derba begged him not to make
a hole in her house just yet. She had plenty for breakfast, she said,
and before it was time for dinner they would know what the people meant
by it.
And indeed they did. For within an hour appeared one of the chief
magistrates of the city, accompanied by a score of soldiers with drawn
swords, and followed by a great multitude of people, requiring the
miner and his brute to yield themselves, the one that he might be tried
for the disturbance he had occasioned and the injury he had committed,
the other that she might be roasted alive for her part in killing two
valuable and harmless animals belonging to worthy citizens. The
summons was preceded and followed by flourish of trumpet, and was read
with every formality by the city marshal himself.
The moment he ended, Lina ran into the little passage, and stood
opposite the door.
'I surrender,' cried Curdie.
'Then tie up your brute, and give her here.'
'No, no,' cried Curdie through the door. 'I surrender; but I'm not
going to do your hangman's work. If you want MY dog, you must take
her.'
'Then we shall set the house on fire, and burn witch and all.'
'It will go hard with us but we shall kill a few dozen of you first,'
cried Curdie. 'We're not the least afraid of you.' With that Curdie
turned to Derba, and said:
'Don't be frightened. I have a strong feeling that all will be well.
Surely no trouble will come to you for being good to strangers.'
'But the poor dog!' said Derba.
Now Curdie and Lina understood each other more than a little by this
time, and not only had he seen that she understood the proclamation,
but when she looked up at him after it was read, it was with such a
grin, and such a yellow flash, that he saw also she was determined to
take care of herself.
'The dog will probably give you reason to think a little more of her
ere long,' he answered. 'But now,' he went on, 'I fear I must hurt
your house a little. I have great confidence, however, that I shall be
able to make up to you for it one day.'
'Never mind the house, if only you can get safe off,' she answered. 'I
don't think they will hurt this precious lamb,' she added, clasping
little Barbara to her bosom. 'For myself, it is all one; I am ready
for anything.'
'It is but a little hole for Lina I want to make,' said Curdie. 'She
can creep through a much smaller one than you would think.'
Again he took his mattock, and went to the back wall.
'They won't burn the house,' he said to himself. 'There is too good a
one on each side of it.'
The tumult had kept increasing every moment, and the city marshal had
been shouting, but Curdie had not listened to him. When now they heard
the blows of his mattock, there went up a great cry, and the people
taunted the soldiers that they were afraid of a dog and his miner. The
soldiers therefore made a rush at the door, and cut its fastenings.
The moment they opened it, out leaped Lina, with a roar so unnaturally
horrible that the sword arms of the soldiers dropped by their sides,
paralysed with the terror of that cry; the crowd fled in every
direction, shrieking and yelling with mortal dismay; and without even
knocking down with her tail, not to say biting a man of them with her
pulverizing jaws, Lina vanished--no one knew whither, for not one of
the crowd had had courage to look upon her.
The moment she was gone, Curdie advanced and gave himself up. The
soldiers were so filled with fear, shame, and chagrin, that they were
ready to kill him on the spot. But he stood quietly facing them, with
his mattock on his shoulder; and the magistrate wishing to examine him,
and the people to see him made an example of, the soldiers had to
content themselves with taking him. Partly for derision, partly to
hurt him, they laid his mattock against his back, and tied his arms to
it.
They led him up a very steep street, and up another still, all the
crowd following. The king's palace-castle rose towering above them;
but they stopped before they reached it, at a low-browed door in a
great, dull, heavy-looking building.
The city marshal opened it with a key which hung at his girdle, and
ordered Curdie to enter. The place within was dark as night, and while
he was feeling his way with his feet, the marshal gave him a rough
push. He fell, and rolled once or twice over, unable to help himself
because his hands were tied behind him.
It was the hour of the magistrate's second and more important
breakfast, and until that was over he never found himself capable of
attending to a case with concentration sufficient to the distinguishing
of the side upon which his own advantage lay; and hence was this
respite for Curdie, with time to collect his thoughts. But indeed he
had very few to collect, for all he had to do, so far as he could see,
was to wait for what would come next. Neither had he much power to
collect them, for he was a good deal shaken.
In a few minutes he discovered, to his great relief, that, from the
projection of the pick end of his mattock beyond his body, the fall had
loosened the ropes tied round it. He got one hand disengaged, and then
the other; and presently stood free, with his good mattock once more in
right serviceable relation to his arms and legs.