you are talking, Mr. Wisk?"
The squirrel was gone in a flash; but a moment later he put out his
head again and turned one bright eye toward the upper part of the tree.
There, on a perch outside her hollow, sat the gray owl, pruning her
feathers. It was nearly dark by this time, and through the dusk Mrs.
Hootaway's yellow eyes could be seen gleaming bright and wide open.
"What nonsense are you putting into the heads of these little
innocents?" continued the owl, in a scolding tone.
"No nonsense at all," said Wisk, in reply. "The child-larks are safe
enough from you, because they are under the protection of Policeman
Bluejay, and he would have a fine revenge if you dared to hurt them.
But my case is different. The laws of the birds do not protect
squirrels, and when you're abroad, my dear Mrs. Hootaway, I prefer to
remain snugly at home."
"To be sure," remarked the owl, with a laugh. "You are timid and
suspicious by nature, my dear Wisk, and you forget that although I have
known you for a long time I have never yet eaten you."
"That is my fault, and not yours," retorted the squirrel.
"Well, I'm not after you tonight, neighbor, nor after birds, either. I
know where there are seven fat mice to be had, and until they are all
gone you may cease to worry."
"I'm glad to hear that," replied Wisk. "I wish there were seven hundred
mice to feed your appetite. But I'm not going to run into danger
recklessly, nevertheless, and it is my bed-time. So good night, Mrs.
Hootaway; and good night, little child-larks." The owl did not reply,
but Twinkle and Chubbins called good night to the friendly squirrel,
and then they hopped into their nest and cuddled down close together.
The moon was now rising over the trees and flooding the gloom of the
forest with its subdued silver radiance. The children were not sleepy;
their new life was too strange and wonderful for them to be able to
close their eyes at once. So they were rather pleased when the gray owl
settled on the branch beside their nest and began to talk to them.
"I'm used to slanders, my dears," she said, in a pleasanter tone than
she had used before, "so I don't mind much what neighbor Wisk says to
me. But I do not wish you to think ill of the owl family, and so I must
assure you that we are as gentle and kindly as any feathered creatures
in the forest--not excepting the Birds of Paradise."
"I am sure of that," replied Twinkle, earnestly. "You are too soft and
fluffy and pretty to be bad."
"It isn't the prettiness," said the gray owl, evidently pleased by the
compliment. "It is the nature of owls to be kind and sympathetic. Those
who do not know us very well say harsh things about us, because we fly
in the night, when most other birds are asleep, and sleep in the
daytime when most other birds are awake."
"Why do you do that?" asked Chubbins.
"Because the strong light hurts our eyes. But, although we are abroad
in the night, we seek only our natural prey, and obey the Great Law of
the forest more than some others do."
"What is the Great Law?" enquired Twinkle, curiously.
"Love. It is the moral law that is above all laws made by living
creatures. The whole forest is ruled by love more than it is by fear.
You may think this is strange when you remember that some animals eat
birds, and some birds eat animals, and the dreadful creeping things eat
us both; but nevertheless we are so close to Nature here that love and
tenderness for our kind influences us even more than it does mankind--
the careless and unthinking race from which you came. The residents of
the forest are good parents, helpful neighbors, and faithful friends.
What better than this could be said of us?"
"Nothing, I'm sure, if it is true," replied the girl.
"Over in the Land of Paradise," continued the owl, thoughtfully, "the
birds are not obliged to take life in order to live themselves; so they
call us savage and fierce. But I believe our natures are as kindly as
those of the Birds of Paradise."
"Where is this Land of Paradise you speak of?" asked Twinkle.
"Directly in the center of our forest. It is a magical spot, protected
from intrusion not by any wall or barred gates, but by a strong wind
that blows all birds away from that magnificent country except the
Birds of Paradise themselves. There is a legend that man once lived
there, but for some unknown crime was driven away. But the birds have
always been allowed to inhabit the place because they did no harm."
"I'd like to see it," said Chubbins.
"So would I," confessed the gray owl, with a sigh; "but there is no use
of my attempting to get into the Paradise of Birds, because the wind
would blow me back. But now it is getting quite dark, and I must be off
to seek my food. Mrs. 'Possum and I have agreed to hunt together,
tonight."
"Who is Mrs. 'Possum?" the girl asked.
"An animal living in the lowest hollow of this tree," answered the owl.
"She is a good-natured creature, and hunts by night, as I do. She is
slow, but, being near the ground, she can spy a mouse much quicker than
I can, and then she calls to me to catch it. So between us we get
plenty of game and are helpful to each other. The only drawback is that
Mrs. 'Possum has four children, which she carries in her pouch wherever
she goes, and they have to be fed as well as their mother. So the
'possums have five mouths to my one, and it keeps us busy to supply
them all."
"It's very kind of you to help her," remarked Twinkle.
"Oh, she helps me, too," returned the owl, cheerfully. "But now good
night, my dears. You will probably be sound asleep when I get home
again."
Off flew Mrs. Hootaway with these words, and her wings moved so
noiselessly that she seemed to fade away into the darkness like a
ghost.
The child-larks sat looking at the silver moon for a time; but
presently Twinkle's eyelids drooped and she fell fast asleep, and
Chubbins was not long in following her example.
[CHAPTER IX] _The Destroyers_
A loud shouting and a bang that echoed like a clap of thunder through
the forest awoke the bird-children from their dreams.
Opening their eyes with a start they saw that the gray dawn was
breaking and a sort of morning twilight made all objects in the forest
distinct, yet not so brilliant as the approaching daylight would.
Shadows still lay among the bushes and the thickest branches; but
between the trees the spaces were clearly visible.
The children, rudely awakened by the riot of noise in their ears, could
distinguish the barking of dogs, the shouts of men calling to the
brutes, and the scream of an animal in deep distress. Immediately
after, there was a whirl overhead and the gray owl settled on the limb
beside their nest.
"They've got her!" she exclaimed, in a trembling, terrified voice. "The
men have shot Mrs. 'Possum dead, and the dogs are now tearing her four
babies limb from limb!"
"Where are they?" whispered Twinkle, her little heart beating as
violently as if the dread destroyers had always been her mortal
enemies.
"Just below us. Isn't it dreadful? We had such a nice night together,
and Mrs. 'Possum was so sweet and loving in caring for her little ones
and feeding them! And, just as we were nearly home again, the dogs
sprang upon my friend and the men shot her dead. We had not even
suspected, until then, that our foes were in the forest."
Twinkle and Chubbins craned their necks over the edge of the nest and
looked down. On the ground stood a man and a boy, and two great dogs
were growling fiercely and tearing some bloody, revolting object with
their cruel jaws.
"Look out!" cried the voice of Wisk, the squirrel. "He's aiming at
you--look out!"
They ducked their heads again, just as the gun roared and flamed fire
beneath them.
"Oh-h-h!" wailed Mrs. Hootaway, fluttering violently beside them. "They
struck me that time--the bullet is in my heart. Good-bye, my dears.
Remember that--all--is love; all is--love!"
Her voice died away to a whisper, and she toppled from the limb.
Twinkle and Chubbins tried to save their dying friend from falling, but
the gray owl was so much bigger than they that they could not support
the weight of her body. Slowly she sank to the ground and fell upon the
earth with a dull sound that was dreadful to hear.
Instantly Twinkle darted from the nest and swooped downward, alighting
on the ground beside the owl's quivering body. A big dog came bounding
toward her. The man was reloading his gun, a few paces away.
"Call off your dog!" shouted Twinkle, wildly excited. "How dare you
shoot the poor, harmless birds? Call off your dog, I say!"
But, even as she spoke, the words sounded in her own ears strange and
unnatural, and more like the chirping of a bird than the language of
men. The hunter either did not hear her or he did not understand her,
and the dog snarled and bared its wicked teeth as it sprang greedily
upon the child-lark.
Twinkle was too terrified to move. She glared upon the approaching
monster helplessly, and it had almost reached her when a black object
fell from the skies with the swiftness of a lightning streak and struck
the dog's back, tearing the flesh with its powerful talons and driving
a stout, merciless beak straight through the skull of the savage brute.
The dog, already dead, straightened out and twitched convulsively. The
man shouted angrily and sprang upon the huge bird that had slain his
pet, at the same time swinging his gun like a club.
"Quick!" said the eagle to Twinkle, "mount with me as swiftly as you
can."
With the words he rose into the air and Twinkle darted after him, while
Chubbins, seeing their flight from his nest, joined them just in time
to escape a shot from the boy's deadly gun.
The inquisitive squirrel, however, had stuck his head out to see what
was happening, and one of the leaden bullets buried itself in his
breast. Chubbins saw him fall back into his hollow and heard his
agonized scream; but he could not stay to help his poor friend. An
instant later he had joined the eagle and Twinkle, and was flying as
hard and swift as his wonderful lark wings could carry him up, up into
the blue sky.
The sunshine touched them now, while below the tragic forest still lay
buried in gloom.
"We are quite safe here, for I am sure no shot from a gun could reach
us," said the eagle. "So let us rest upon our wings for a while. How
lucky it was that I happened to be around in time to rescue you, my
little friends."
"I am very grateful, indeed," answered Twinkle, holding her wings
outstretched so that she floated lightly in the air beside her rescuer.
"If you had been an instant later, the dog would have killed me."
"Very true," returned the eagle. "I saw your danger while I was in the
air, and determined to act quickly, although I might myself have been
shot by the man had his gun been loaded. But I have noticed that a bold
action is often successful because it causes surprise, and the foe does
not know what to do."
"I'm 'shamed of those people," said Chubbins, indignantly. "What right
had they to come to the forest and kill the pretty owl, and the dear
little squirrel, and the poor mama 'possum and her babies?"
"They had the right of power," said the eagle, calmly. "It would be a
beautiful world were there no destroyers of life in it; but the earth
and air and water would then soon become so crowded that there would
not be room for them all to exist. Don't blame the men."
"But they are cruel," said Twinkle, "and kill innocent, harmless birds
and animals, instead of the wicked ones that could be better spared."
"Cruelty is man's nature," answered the eagle. "Of all created things,
men, tigers and snakes are known to be the most cruel. From them we
expect no mercy. But now, what shall be our next movement? I suppose it
will be best for you to keep away from the forest until the men are
gone. Would you like to visit my home, and meet my wife and children?"
"Yes, indeed!" cried Twinkle; "if you will be kind enough to let us."
"It will be a great pleasure to me," said the eagle. "Follow me
closely, please."
He began flying again, and they kept at his side. By and by they
noticed a bright, rosy glow coming from a portion of the forest beneath
them.
"What is that?" asked Chubbins.
"It is the place called the Paradise of Birds," answered their
conductor. "It is said to be the most beautiful place in all the world,
but no one except the Birds of Paradise are allowed to live there.
Those favored birds sometimes enter our part of the forest, but we are
never allowed to enter theirs."
"I'd like to see that place," said Twinkle.
"Well, you two child-larks are different from all other birds,"
remarked the eagle, "and for that reason perhaps you would be allowed
to visit the paradise that is forbidden the rest of us. If ever I meet
one of the beautiful birds that live there, I will ask it to grant you
the privilege."
"Do!" said Twinkle and Chubbins, in one eager breath. They flew for a
long time, high in the air, but neither of the bird-children seemed to
tire in the least. They could not go quite as fast as the eagle,
however, who moderated his speed so that they could keep up with him.
[CHAPTER X] _In the Eagle's Nest_
Gradually the forest passed out of sight and only bleak, rugged
mountains were below them. One peak rose higher than the others, and
faced the sea, and to this point the great eagle directed their flight.
On a crag that jutted out from the mountain was the eagle's nest, made
of rude sticks of wood gathered from the forest. Sitting beside the
nest was Mrs. Eagle, larger and more pompous even than her husband,
while squatting upon the edge of the nest were two half-grown eaglets
with enormous claws and heads, but rather skinny bodies that were
covered with loose and ragged feathers. Neither the nest nor the
eaglets appeared to be very clean, and a disagreeable smell hung over
the place.
"This is funny," said Mrs. Eagle, looking at the child-larks with
surprise. "Usually you kill your game before you bring it home,
Jonathan; but today it seems our dinner has flown to us willingly."
"They're for us!" cried one of the eaglets, making a quick dash to
seize Twinkle, who darted out of his reach.
"One for each of us!" screamed the other eaglet, rushing at Chubbins.
"Peace--be quiet!" said the eagle, sternly. "Cannot you tell friends
from food, you foolish youngsters? These are two little friends of mine
whom I have invited to visit us; so you must treat them in a civil
manner."
"Why not eat them?" asked one of the eaglets, looking at the
child-larks with hungry eyes.
"Because I forbid you. They are my guests, and must be protected and
well treated. And even if this were not so, the larks are too small to
satisfy your hunger, you little gluttons."
"Jonathan," said Mrs. Eagle, coldly, "do not reproach our offspring for
their hunger. We sent you out this morning to procure a supply of food,
and we expected you to bring us home something good to eat, instead of
these useless little creatures."
The eagle seemed annoyed at being scolded in this manner.
"I had an adventure in the forest," he said, "and came near being shot
and killed by a man. That is the reason I came home so soon."
Twinkle and Chubbins were standing together at the edge of the crag
when one of the eaglets suddenly spread out his wide, stiff wings and
pushed them over the precipice. They recovered themselves before they
had fallen far, and flew to the ledge again just in time to see the
father eagle cuff his naughty son very soundly. But the mother only
laughed in her harsh voice and said:
"It is so early in the day, Jonathan, that I advise you to go again in
search of food. Our sweet darlings will not be comforted until they
have eaten."
"Very well," answered the eagle. "I am sorry you cannot treat my guests
more politely, for they are all unaccustomed to such rudeness. But I
see that it will be better for me to take them away with me at once."
"Do," said Mrs. Eagle; and the eaglets cried: "Better let us eat 'em,
daddy. They are not very big, but they're better than no breakfast at
all."
"You're dis'greeable things!" said Twinkle, indignantly; "and I don't
like you a bit. So _there!"_
"Come on, Twink," said Chubbins. "Let's go away."
"I will take you back to the forest," the eagle declared, and at once
rose into the air. Twinkle and Chubbins followed him, and soon the nest
on the crag was left far behind and they could no longer hear the hoot
of the savage young ones.
For a time the eagle flew in silence. Then he said:
"You must forgive my family for not being more hospitable. You must
know that they live a very lonely life, and have no society because
every living thing fears them. But I go abroad more and see more of the
world, so I know very well how guests ought to be treated."
"You have been very kind to us, Mr. Eagle," replied the girl-lark, "and
you saved my life when the dog would have killed me. I don't blame you
any for what your family did. My mama says lots of people show off
better abroad than they do at home, and that's your case exactly. If I
were you I wouldn't take any more visitors to my nest."
"I do not intend to," answered the eagle. "But I am glad that you think
well of me personally, if you do not of my family, and I assure you it
has been a real pleasure to me to assist you. Were you like ordinary
birds, you would be beneath my notice; but I am wise enough to
understand that you are very unusual and wonderful little creatures,
and if at any time I can serve you further, you have but to call me,
and I will do what I can for you."
"Thank you very much," replied Twinkle, who realized that the great
bird had acted more gently toward them than it is the nature of his
wild race to do.
They had just reached the edge of the forest again when they saw a bird
approaching them at a great speed, and soon it came near enough for
them to see that it was Policeman Bluejay. He wore his official helmet
and carried his club, and as soon as he came beside them he said:
"Thank goodness I've found you at last. I've been hunting for you an
hour, and began to fear you had met with some misfortune."
"We've been with the eagle," said the girl. "He saved our lives and
carried us away from where the dreadful men were."
"We have had sad doings in the forest today--very sad, indeed,"
declared the bluejay, in a grave voice. "The hunters did even more
damage than usual. They killed Jolly Joe, the brown bear, and Sam Fox,
and Mrs. 'Possum and her babies, and Wisk the squirrel; so that the
animals are all in mourning for their friends. But our birds suffered
greatly, also. Mrs. Hootaway is dead, and three pigeons belonging to a
highly respected family; but the saddest of all is the murder of Mr.
and Mrs. Goldfinch, both of whom were killed by the same shot. You may
remember, my dears, that they were at your reception yesterday, and as
gay and happy as any of the company present. In their nest are now five
little children, too young and weak to fly, and there is no one to feed
them or look after them."
"Oh, that is dreadful!" exclaimed Twinkle. "Can't Chubbins and I do
something for the little goldfinches?"
"Why, that is why I was so anxious to find you," answered Policeman
Bluejay. "You haven't laid any eggs yet, and have no one to depend upon
you. So I hoped you would adopt the goldfinch babies."
"We will," said Chubbins, promptly. "We can feed them out of our
basket."
"Oh, yes," chimed in the girl. "We couldn't catch grubs for them, you
know."
"It won't be necessary," observed the policeman, with a sly wink at the
eagle. "They're too young yet to know grubs from grub."
[CHAPTER XI] _The Orphans_
The eagle now bade them good-bye and flew away in search of prey, while
the bluejay and the child-larks directed their flight toward that part
of the great forest where they lived.
"Are you sure the men have gone?" asked Chubbins.
"Yes," replied the policeman; "they left the forest as soon as they had
shot Jolly Joe, for the brown bear was so heavy that they had to carry
him on a pole resting across their shoulders. I hope they won't come
again very soon."
"Did they take Mrs. Hootaway with them?" asked Twinkle.
"Yes; she will probably be stuffed, poor thing!"
Presently they passed near the rosy glow that lighted up the center of
the forest with its soft radiance, and the girl said:
"That is the Paradise Land, where the Birds of Paradise live. The eagle
has promised to ask one of those birds to let us visit their country."
"Oh, I can do better than that, if you wish to visit the Paradise,"
responded the bluejay; "for the Guardian of the Entrance is a special
friend of mine, and will do whatever I ask him to."
"Will he, really?" asked the girl, in delight.
"To be sure. Some day I will take you over there, and then you will see
what powerful friends Policeman Bluejay has."
"I'd like that," declared Twinkle.
Their swift flight enabled them to cover the remaining distance very
rapidly, and soon they were at home again.
They first flew to the nest of the goldfinches, which was in a tree not
far from the maple where the lark-children lived. There they found the
tiny birds, who were yet so new that they were helpless indeed. Mrs.
Redbreast was sitting by the nest when they arrived, and she said:
"The poor orphans are still hungry, although I have fed them all the
insects I could find near. But I am glad that you have come, for it is
time I was at home looking after my own little ones."
"Chubbins and I have 'dopted the goldfinches," said Twinkle, "so we will
look after them now. But it was very nice of you, Mrs. Redbreast, to
take take care of them until we arrived."
"Well, I like to be neighborly," returned the pretty bird; "and as long
as cruel men enter our forest no mother can tell how soon her own
little ones will be orphaned and left helpless."
"That is true," said the policeman, nodding gravely.
So Mrs. Redbreast flew away and now Chubbins looked curiously into the
nest, where several fluffy heads were eagerly lifted with their bills
as wide open as they could possibly stretch.
"They must be just _awful_ hungry, Twink," said the boy.
"Oh, they're always like that," observed Policeman Bluejay, calmly.
"When anyone is around they open their mouths to be fed, whether they
are hungry or not. It's the way with birdlets."
"What shall we feed them?" asked Twinkle.
"Oh, anything at all; they are not particular," said the bluejay, and
then he flew away and left the child-larks to their new and interesting
task.
"I'll be the father, and you be the mother," said Chubbins.
"All right," answered Twinkle.
"Peep! peep! peep!" said the tiny goldfinches.
"I wonder if the luncheon in our basket would agree with them,"
remarked the girl, looking at the open mouths reflectively as she
perched her own brown body upon the edge of the deep nest.
"Might try it," suggested the boy. "The cop says they're not
particular, and what's good enough for us ought to be good enough for
them."
So they flew to where the basket hung among the thick leaves of the
tree, which had served to prevent the men from discovering it, and
crept underneath the cloth that covered it.
"Which do you think they'd like best," asked Chubbins, "the pickles or
the cheese?"
"Neither one," Twinkle replied. "The sandwiches will be best for them.
Wait; I'll pick out some of the meat that is between the slices of
bread. They'll be sure to like that."
"Of course," agreed Chubbins, promptly. "They'll think it's bugs."
So each one dragged out a big piece of meat from a sandwich, and by
holding it fast in one claw they managed to fly with the burden to the
nest of the goldfinch babies.
"Don't give it to 'em all at once," cautioned the girl. "It would choke
'em."
"I know," said Chubbins.
He tore off a tiny bit of the meat and dropped it into one of the
wide-open bills. Instantly it was gone and the mouth was open again for
more. They tried to divide the dinner equally among them, but they all
looked so alike and were so ravenous to eat everything that was dropped
into their bills that it was hard work to keep track of which had been
fed and which had not. But the child-larks were positive that each one
had had enough to keep it from starving, because there was a big bunch
in front of each little breast that was a certain proof of a full crop.
The next task of the guardians was to give the birdlets drink; so
Twinkle and Chubbins flew to the brook and by hunting around a while
they found an acorn-cup that had fallen from one of the oak trees. This
they filled with water, and then Twinkle, who was a trifle larger than
the boy-lark, clutched the cup firmly with her toes and flew back to
the orphans without spilling more than a few drops. They managed to
pour some of the water into each open mouth, and then Twinkle said:
"There! they won't die of either hunger or thirst in a hurry, Chub. So
now we can feed ourselves."
"Their mouths are still open," returned the boy, doubtfully.
"It must be a habit they have," she answered. "Wouldn't you think
they'd get tired stretching their bills that way?"
"Peep! peep! peep!" cried the baby goldfinches.
"You see," said the boy, with a wise look, "they don't know any better.
I had a dog once that howled every time we shut him up. But if we let
him alone he stopped howling. We'll go and get something to eat and let
these beggars alone a while. Perhaps they'll shut their mouths by the
time we get back again."
"Maybe," replied Twinkle.
They got their own luncheon from the basket, and afterward perched on
the tree near the nest of the little goldfinches. They did not feel at
all comfortable in their old nest in the maple, because they could not
forget the tragic deaths of the inhabitants of the three hollows in the
tree--the three "flats" as poor Wisk had merrily called them.
During the afternoon several of the birds came to call upon the
orphans, and they all nodded approval when they found the child-larks
watching over the little ones. Twinkle questioned some of the mothers
anxiously about that trick the babies had of keeping their bills open
and crying for food, but she was told to pay no attention to such
actions.
Nevertheless, the pleadings of the orphans, who were really stuffed
full of food, made the child-larks so nervous that they hailed with
delight the arrival of Policeman Bluejay in the early evening. The busy
officer had brought with him Mrs. Chaffinch, a widow whose husband had
been killed a few days before by a savage wildcat.
Mrs. Chaffinch declared she would be delighted to become a mother to
the little goldfinches, and rear them properly. She had always had good
success in bringing up her own children, she claimed, and the
goldfinches were first cousins to the chaffinches, so she was sure to
understand their ways perfectly.
Twinkle did not want to give up her charges at first, as she had become
interested in them; but Chubbins heaved a sigh of relief and declared
he was glad the "restless little beggars" had a mother that knew more
about them than he did. The bluejay hinted that he considered the
widow's experience would enable her to do more for the baby goldfinches
than could a child-lark who had never yet laid an egg, and so Twinkle
was forced to yield to his superior judgment.
Mrs. Chaffinch settled herself in a motherly manner upon the nest, and
the two bird-children bade her good-night and returned to their own
maple tree, where they had a rather wakeful night, because Chubbins
thoughtlessly suggested that the place might be haunted by the ghosts
of the gray owl, Wisk, and Mrs. 'Possum.
But either the poor things had no ghosts or they were too polite to
bother the little child-larks.
[CHAPTER XII] _The Guardian_
The next morning ushered in a glorious day, sunny and bright. The sky
was a clear blue, and only a slight breeze ruffled the leaves of the
trees. Even before Twinkle and Chubbins were awake the birds were
calling merrily to one another throughout the forest, and the chipmonks
chirped in their own brisk, businesslike way as they scuttled from tree
to tree.
While the child-larks were finishing their breakfast Policeman Bluejay
came to them, his feathers looking fresh and glossy and all his
gorgeous colorings appearing especially beautiful in the sunshine.
"Today will be a rare day to visit the Paradise," he said; "so I have
come to escort you to the Guardian of the Entrance, who I am sure will
arrange for you to enter that wonderful country."
"It is very kind of you to remember our wish," said Twinkle. "We are
all ready."
So they flew above the tree-tops and began their journey toward the
center of the forest.
"Where's your p'liceman's hat and club?" Chubbins asked the bluejay.
"Why, I left them at home," was the reply. "I'm not on official duty
today, you know, and the Guardian does not like to see anything that
looks like a weapon. In his country there are no such things as
quarrels or fighting, or naughtiness of any sort; for as they have
everything they want there is nothing to quarrel over or fight for. The
Birds of Paradise have laws, I understand; but they obey them because
they are told to, and not because they are forced to. It would be a bad
country for a policeman to live in."
"But a good place for everyone else," said Twinkle.
"Perhaps so," agreed the policeman, reluctantly. "But I sometimes think
the goody-goody places would get awful tiresome to live in, after a
time. Here in our part of the forest there is a little excitement, for
the biggest birds only obey our laws through fear of punishment, and I
understand it is just the same in the world of men. But in the Birds'
Paradise there lives but one race, every member of which is quite
particular not to annoy any of his fellows in any way. That is why they
will admit no disturbing element into their country. If you are
admitted, my dears, you must be very careful not to offend any one that
you meet."
"We'll try to be good," promised Chubbins.
"I would not dare to take any of my own people there," continued the
bluejay, flying swiftly along as they talked together; "but you two are
different, and more like the fairy Birds of Paradise themselves than
like our forest birds. That is the reason I feel sure the Guardian will
admit you."
"I'm naughty sometimes, and so is Chubbins," said Twinkle, honestly.
"But we try not to be any naughtier than we can help."
"I am sure you will behave very nicely," replied the bluejay.
After a time the rosy glow appeared reflected in the blue sky, and as
they flew toward it the soft and delightful radiance seemed to grow and
deepen in intensity. It did not dazzle their eyes in the least, but as
the light penetrated the forest and its furthest rays fell upon the
group, they experienced a queer sense of elation and light-hearted joy.
But now the breeze freshened and grew more strong, pressing against
their feathered breasts so gently yet powerfully that they soon
discovered they were not advancing at all, but simply fluttering in the
air.
"Drop down to the ground," whispered the bluejay; and they obeyed his
injunction and found that close to the earth the wind was not so
strong.
"That is a secret I learned some time ago," said their friend. "Most
birds who seek to enter the Paradise try to beat against the wind, and
are therefore always driven back; but there is just one way to approach
the Guardian near enough to converse with him. After that it depends
entirely upon his good-will whether you get any farther."
The wind still blew so strongly that it nearly took their breath away,
but by creeping steadily over the ground they were able to proceed
slowly, and after a time the pressure of the wind grew less and less,
until it suddenly ceased altogether.
Then they stopped to rest and to catch their breaths, but before this
happened Twinkle and Chubbins both uttered exclamations of amazement at
the sight that met their eyes.
Before them was a grove composed of stately trees not made of wood, but
having trunks of polished gold and silver and leaves of exquisite
metallic colorings. Beneath the trees was a mass of brilliant flowers,
exceedingly rare and curious in form, and as our little friends looked
upon them these flowers suddenly began a chant of greeting and then
sang a song so sweet and musical that the lark-children were entranced
and listened in rapt delight.
When the song ended the flowers all nodded their heads in a pretty way,
and Twinkle drew a long breath and murmured:
"Isn't it odd to hear flowers sing? I'm sure the birds themselves
cannot beat that music."
"They won't try," replied the policeman, "for Birds of Paradise do not
sing."
"How strange!" exclaimed the girl.
"The land they live in is so full of music that they do not need to,"
continued the bluejay. "But before us is the entrance, leading through
the limbs of that great golden tree you see at the left. Fly swiftly
with me, and perch upon the middle branch."
With these words he darted toward the tree, and Twinkle and Chubbins
followed. In a few seconds they alighted upon the branch and found
themselves face to face with the first Bird of Paradise they had yet
seen.
He possessed a graceful carriage and a most attractive form, being in
size about as large as a common pigeon. His eyes were shrewd but gentle
in expression and his pose as he stood regarding the newcomers was
dignified and impressive. But the children had little time to note
these things because their wondering eyes were riveted upon the bird's
magnificent plumage. The feathers lay so smoothly against his body that
they seemed to present a solid surface, and in color they were a
glistening emerald green upon the neck and wings, shading down on the
breast to a softer green and then to a pure white. The main
wing-feathers were white, tipped with vivid scarlet, and the white
feathers of his crest were also tipped with specks of flame. But his
tail feathers were the most beautiful of all his gay uniform. They
spread out in the shape of a fan, and every other feather was brilliant
green and its alternate feather snow white.
"How lovely!" cried Twinkle, and the bird bowed its head and with a
merry glance from its eyes responded:
"Your admiration highly honors me, little stranger."
"This," said Policeman Bluejay, "is the important official called the
Guardian of the Entrance of Paradise. Sir Guardian, permit me to
introduce to you two children of men who have been magically
transformed into skylarks against their will. They are not quite birds,
because their heads retain the human shape; but whatever form they may
bear, their natures are sweet and innocent and I deem them worthy to
associate for a brief time with your splendid and regal race. Therefore
I have brought them here to commend them to your hospitality and
good-will, and I hope you will receive them as your guests."
"What are your names, little strangers?" asked the Guardian.
"Mama calls me Twinkle," said the girl.
"I'm Chubbins," said the boy.
The Guardian looked attentively at the bluejay.
"You know our regulations," said he; "no birds of the forest are
admitted to our Paradise."
"I know," replied the policeman. "I will await my little friends here.
It is pleasure enough for me to have just this glimpse of your
beautiful fairyland."
The Guardian nodded his approval of this speech.
"Very well," he answered, "you shall remain and visit with me. If all
forest birds were like you, my friend, there would be little danger in
admitting them into our society. But they are not, and the laws must be
regarded. As for the child-larks, I will send them first to the King,
in charge of the Royal Messenger, whom I will now summon."
He tossed his head upward with an abrupt motion, and in the tree-top a
chime of golden bells rang musically in the air. The flowers beneath
them caught up the refrain, and sang it softly until another bird came
darting through the air and alighted on the golden limb beside the
Guardian.
The newcomer was differently garbed from the other. His plumage was
orange and white, the crest and wing-feathers being tipped with bright
blue. Nor was he so large as the Guardian, nor so dignified in
demeanor. Indeed, his expression was rather merry and roguish, and as
he saw the strangers he gave a short, sharp whistle of surprise.
"My dear Ephel," said the Guardian, "oblige me by escorting these
child-larks to the presence of his Majesty the King."
"I am delighted to obey your request," answered Ephel the Messenger,
brightly. Then, turning to Twinkle and Chubbins, he added: "I trust you
will find my society agreeable during our flight to the royal monarch
of Paradise."
Twinkle was too much embarrassed by this politeness to answer at once,
but Chubbins said "Sure thing!" in a matter-of-fact voice, and the
Messenger nodded gaily and continued:
"Then we will go, if it pleases you."
He spread his wings in a flash of color and sped away into the
Paradise, and the children eagerly followed him.
[CHAPTER XIII] _The King Bird_
More and more magnificence was unfolded as they advanced into this
veritable fairyland of the birds. Vines of silver climbed up the golden
trunks of trees and mingled their twining threads with the brilliant
leaves. And now upon the trees appeared jewelled blossoms that sparkled
most exquisitely in the rosy-hued radiance that, in this favored spot,
had taken the place of sunshine. There were beds of plants with
wide-spreading leaves that changed color constantly, one hue slowly
melting into another and no two leaves on the same plant having the
same color at the same time. Yet in spite of the vivid coloring that
prevailed everywhere, each combination seemed in perfect harmony and
served to delight the senses.
Bushes that emitted a grateful fragrance bore upon slender branches
little bells that at times tinkled in the perfumed breeze and played
sweet melodies, while here and there were clusters of fountain-lilies
that shot sprays of crystal water high into the air. When the water
fell back again and the drops struck against the broad leaves of the
plants, they produced a melodious sound that was so delightful that
Twinkle thought she could listen to it for hours.
Their guide flew silently on, and the two children were so much amazed
by their surroundings that they had no words for questions or even
remarks.
The scene was ever shifting and becoming more and more lovely and
fascinating, and the paradise was more extensive than they had thought
it.
By and bye Ephel the Messenger approached the central part, where was a
great arbor thickly covered with masses of pure white flowers. Some of
these were large, like chrysanthemums and mammoth white double roses,
while among them were twined smaller and more delicate blossoms, like
the bells of lilies-of-the-valley.
Ephel entered the arch of the arbor and flew on, for it was of great
extent and continually enlarged from the point of entrance, so that at
last the child-larks found themselves in a lofty circular chamber
banked on sides and roof with solid masses of the snow-white flowers,
which filled the air with a sweet and agreeable perfume. The floor was
also a mass of white blossoms, so that the place resembled the inside
of a huge cornucopia.
But the eyes of the little strangers were not directed so much to the
arbor itself as to the group of splendid birds that occupied the
flower-chamber and perched upon a wide-spreading bush of filigree gold
that rose from the middle of the floor and spread its dainty branches
in every direction.
On the lower branches sat many birds of marvellous colorings, some
having blue the predominant tint in their feathers, and others green,
or scarlet, or brilliant yellows. In strong contrast with these were a
few modest-looking birds with soft brown feathers covering their
graceful forms, that sat silently upon the lowest and most retired
branch of the golden bush; but still greater was the contrast of all
present with the magnificence of the one occupying the topmost branch.
This gorgeous creature, whose splendor dominated the white bower, at
once won the children's attention, and they had no doubt they were
gazing upon the King Bird of Paradise.
The feathers of his head and neck were so fine that they looked like a
covering of velvet. These seemed to be, at first, of a delicate
lavender color, but the children observed that they shone with a
different tint at every movement the King made. The body feathers, also
as glossy as velvet, were of a rich royal purple, shading to lavender
and then to white upon his breast. His wing plumes were white, tipped
with specks of lustrous gold.
But by far the most astonishing part of the King's plumage was that
which consisted of the dainty, fern-like plumes that rose from his body
and tail and spread in graceful and bewildering curves both right and
left, until his form seemed to be standing in a feathery bower of
resplendent beauty. All the colors of the rainbow were seen in these
delicate feathers, and against the white background of the arch this
monarch of the feathered world appeared more royally magnificent than
any words can describe.
Both Twinkle and Chubbins gasped with amazement and delight as, at the
command of Ephel, they alighted upon a lowly branch of the golden bush
and bowed their heads before the ruler of the birds' fairyland.
"Ah, whom have we here?" asked the King, in a soft voice, as he
strutted and proudly turned himself upon his perch.
"Strangers, your Majesty," answered the Messenger. "They are sent to
you by the Guardian of the Entrance because they are gentle and
innocent, and are neither birds nor mortals, but a part of both."
"They are certainly very curious," remarked the King, staring at the
human heads upon the lark bodies. "May I ask you, little strangers, how
you happen to exist in your present form?"
Twinkle, tossing her head to throw back a straggling lock of hair that
had fallen across her eyes, began in her sweet voice to tell the story
of their enchantment, and not only the King but all the Birds of
Paradise present listened intently to her words.
When she had finished the King exclaimed:
"Indeed, my dear child-larks, you are worthy to be our guests in
fairyland. So it will please me if you will be as happy and comfortable
as possible, and enjoy your stay with us as much as you can. My people
will delight to honor and amuse you, and Ephel shall continue to guide
you wherever you go."
"Thank you," returned Twinkle, earnestly; and Chubbins added, in his
blunt way: "Much obliged."
"But, before you go," continued his Majesty, "tell me what you think of
my royal person. Am I not beautiful?"
"You are, indeed," replied Twinkle; "only--"
"Only what?" asked the King, as she hesitated.
"Only I'm sorry you are so vain, and strut around so, and want everyone
to see how beautiful you are."
"Why should I not? Is not vanity one of the great virtues?" asked the
King, in a surprised voice.
"My mama says people ought not to think themselves nice, or pretty,"
said the child. "With us, to be vain is a fault, and we are taught to
be modest and unassuming."
"How remarkable!" exclaimed the King. "And how very thoughtless your
mother must be. Here we think that if God creates us beautiful it is a
sin not to glory in His work, and make everyone acknowledge the kindly
skill of the Supreme Maker's hand. Should I try to make others think,
or should I myself think, that I am not most gracefully formed and most
gorgeously clothed, I would be guilty of the sin of not appreciating
the favor of God, and deserve to be punished."
Twinkle was amazed, but could find no words to contradict this
astonishing idea.
"I had not thought of it in that way," she answered. "Perhaps I am
wrong, your Majesty; and certainly you are very beautiful."
"Think it over," said the King, graciously. "Learn to be grateful for
every good thing that is yours, and proud that you have been selected
by Nature for adornment. Only in this way may such rare favors be
deserved. And now the royal Messenger will show you the sights of our
Paradise, and try to entertain you pleasantly while you are our
guests."
He turned aside, with these words, and fluttered his waving feathers so
that their changing tints might dazzle the eyes of all observers. But
immediately afterward he paused and cried out:
"Dear me! One of my wing plumes is disarranged. Help me, you ladies!"
At once the small brown birds on the lower branches, who had been
modestly quiet because they had no gay plumage, flew up to the King and
with their bills skillfully dressed his feathers, putting the wing
plume into its place again and arranging it properly, while the other
birds looked on with evident interest.
As the lark-children turned away to follow the Messenger Chubbins
remarked:
"I'm glad _I_ haven't got all those giddy feathers."
"Why?" asked Twinkle, who had been rather awed by the King's splendor.
"Because it would take all my time to keep 'em smooth," answered the
boy. "The poor King can't do much more than admire himself, so he don't
get time to have fun."
[CHAPTER XIV] _A Real Fairyland_
As they left the royal arbor of white flowers the Messenger turned to
the left and guided his guests through several bright and charming
avenues to a grove of trees that had bright blue bark and yellow
leaves. Scattered about among the branches were blossoms of a delicate
pink color, shaped like a cup and resembling somewhat the flower of the
morning-glory.
"Are you hungry?" asked Ephel.
"Oh, I could eat something, I guess," said Chubbins.
The Messenger flew to one of the trees and alighted upon a branch where
three of the pink, cup-shaped flowers grew in a row. The children
followed him, and sitting one before each blossom they looked within
the cups and found them filled with an unknown substance that both
looked and smelled delicious and appetizing.
"It is royal amal," said their guide, busily pecking at his cup with
his bill. "Help yourselves, little ones. You will find it very nice
indeed."
"Well," said Twinkle, "I'd be glad to eat it if I could. But it
wouldn't do Chubbins and me a bit of good to stick our noses into these
cups."
Ephel turned to look at them.
"True," he remarked; "it was very careless of me to forget that you
have no bills. How are you accustomed to eat?"
"Why, with spoons, and knives and forks," said the girl.
"You have but to ask for what you need," declared the royal Messenger.
Twinkle hesitated, scarcely knowing what to say. At last she spoke
boldly: "I wish Chub and I had spoons."
Hardly had the words left her lips when two tiny golden spoons appeared
in the flower-cups. Twinkle seized the spoon before her in one claw and
dipped up a portion of the strange food, which resembled charlotte
russe in appearance. When she tasted it she found it delicious; so she
eagerly ate all that the blossom contained.
When she looked around for Chubbins she found he was gone. He had
emptied his cup and carried the golden spoon to another blossom on a
higher limb, where the girl discovered him eating as fast as he could
dip up the food.
"Let us go to another tree," said Ephel. "There are many excellent
things to eat, and a variety of food is much more agreeable than
feasting upon one kind."
"All right," called Chubbins, who had succeeded in emptying the second
cup.
As they flew on Twinkle said to the guide:
"I should think the blossoms would all be emptied in a little while."
"Oh, they fill up again in a few moments," replied Ephel. "Should we go
back even now, I think we would find them all ready to eat again. But
here are the conona bushes. Let us taste these favorite morsels."
The bushes on which they now rested had willow-green branches with
silver balls growing thickly upon them. Ephel tapped lightly upon one
of the balls with his bill and at once it opened by means of a hinge in
the center, the two halves of the ball lying flat, like plates. On one
side Twinkle found tiny round pellets of cake, each one just big enough
to make a mouthful for a bird. On the other side was a thick substance
that looked like jelly.
"The proper thing to do," said their guide, "is to roll one of the
pellets in the jelly, and then eat it."
He showed Twinkle how to do this, and as she had brought her golden
spoon with her it was easy enough. Ephel opened a ball for Chubbins and
then one for himself, and the children thought this food even nicer
than the first they had eaten.
"Now we will have some fruit," declared the Messenger. He escorted his
charges to an orchard where grew many strange and beautiful trees
hanging full of fruits that were all unknown to the lark-children. They
were of many odd shapes and all superbly colored, some gleaming like
silver and gold and others being cherry-red or vivid blue or royal
purple in shade. A few resembled grapes and peaches and cherries; but
they had flavors not only varied and delicious but altogether different
from the fruits that grow outside of the Birds' Paradise.
Another queer thing was, that as fast as the children ate one fruit,
another appeared in its place, and they hopped from branch to branch
and tree to tree, trying this one and that, until Chubbins exclaimed:
"Really, Twink, I can't eat another mouthful."
"I'm afraid we've both been stuffing ourselves, Chub," the girl
replied. "But these things taste so good it is hard to stop at the
right time."
"Would you like to drink?" asked Ephel.
"If you please," Twinkle answered.
"Then follow me," said the guide.
He led them through lovely vistas of wonderful trees, down beautiful
winding avenues that excited their admiration, and past clusters of
flowering plants with leaves as big as umbrellas and as bright as a
painter's palette. The Paradise seemed to have been laid out according
to one exquisite, symmetrical plan, and although the avenues or paths
between the trees and plants led in every direction, the ground beneath
them was everywhere thickly covered with a carpet of magnificent
flowers or richly tinted ferns and grasses. This was because the birds
never walked upon the ground, but always flew through the air.
Often, as they passed by, the flowers would greet them with sweet songs
or choruses and the plants would play delightful music by rubbing or
striking their leaves against one another, so that the children's ears
were constantly filled with harmony, while their eyes were feasted on
the bewildering masses of rich color, and each breath they drew was
fragrant with the delicious odors of the blossoms that abounded on
every side.
"Of all the fairylands I've ever heard of or read about," said Twinkle,
"this certainly is the best."
"It's just a peach of a fairyland," commented Chubbins, approvingly.
"Here is the nectar tree," presently remarked the royal Messenger, and
he paused to allow them to observe it.
The tree was all of silver--silver trunk and branches and leaves--and
from the end of each leaf or branch dripped sparkling drops of a
pink-tinted liquid. These glistened brightly as they fell through the
air and lost themselves in a bed of silver moss that covered all the
ground beneath the tree.
Ephel flew to a branch and held his mouth open so that a drop from
above fell into it. Twinkle and Chubbins followed his example, and
found the pink liquid very delightful to drink. It seemed to quench
their thirst and refresh them at the same time, and when they flew from
the queer dripping tree they were as light-hearted and gay as any two
children so highly favored could possibly have felt.
"Haven't you any water in your paradise?" asked the little girl-lark.
"Yes, of course," Ephel answered. "The fountain-lilies supply what
water we wish to drink, and the Lustrous Lake is large enough for us
all to bathe in. Besides these, we have also the Lake of Dry Water, for
you must know that the Lustrous Lake is composed of wet water."
"I thought all water was wet," said Chubbins.
"It may be so in your country," replied the Royal Messenger, "but in
our Paradise we have both dry and wet water. Would you like to visit
these lakes?"
"If you please," said Twinkle.
[CHAPTER XV] _The Lake of Dry Water_
They flew through the jewelled gardens for quite a way, emerging at
last from among the trees to find before them a pretty sheet of water
of a greenish hue. Upon the shore were rushes that when swayed by the
breeze sang soft strains of music.
"This," announced their guide, "is the Lake of Dry Water."
"It _looks_ wet, all right," said Chubbins, in a tone of doubt.
"But it isn't," declared Ephel. "Watch me, if you please."
He hovered over the lake a moment and then dove downward and
disappeared beneath the surface. When he came up again he shook the
drops of water from his plumage and then flew back to rejoin his
guests.
"Look at me," he said. "My feathers are not even damp." They looked,
and saw that he spoke truly. Then Chubbins decided to try a bath in the
dry water, and also plunged into the lake. When he came to the surface
he floated there for a time, and ducked his head again and again; but
when he came back to the others not a hair of his head nor a feather of
his little brown body was in the least moist.
"That's fine water," said the boy-lark. "I suppose you Birds of
Paradise bathe here all the time."
"No," answered Ephel; "for only wet water is cleansing and refreshing.
We always take our daily baths in the Lustrous Lake. But here we
usually sail and disport ourselves, for it is a comfort not to get wet
when you want to play in the water."
"How do you sail?" asked Twinkle, with interest.
"I will show you," replied their guide.
He flew to a tall tree near, that had broad, curling leaves, and
plucked a leaf with his bill. The breeze caught it at once and wafted
it to the lake, so that it fell gently upon the water.
"Get aboard, please," called Ephel, and alighted upon the broad surface
of the floating leaf. Twinkle and Chubbins followed, one sitting in
front of their guide and one behind him. Then Ephel spread out his
wings of white and orange, and the breeze pushed gently against them
and sent the queer boat gliding over the surface of the dry water.
"Sometimes, when the wind is strong," said the Royal Messenger, "these
frail craft upset, and then we are dumped into the water. But we never
mind that, because the water is dry and we are not obliged to dress our
feathers again."
"It is very convenient," observed Twinkle, who was enjoying the sail.
"Could one be drowned in this lake?"
"I suppose an animal, like man, could, for it is as impossible to
breathe beneath dry water as it is beneath wet. But only birds live
here, and they cannot drown, because as soon as they come to the
surface they fly into the air."
"I see," said Twinkle, musingly.
They sailed way across the lake, and because the wind was gentle they
did not upset once. On reaching the farther shore they abandoned the
leaf-boat and again took wing and resumed their flight through the
avenues.
There was a great variety of scenery in the Paradise, and wherever they
went something new and different was sure to meet their view.
At one place the avenue was carpeted with big pansies of every color
one could imagine, some of them, indeed, having several colors blended
together upon their petals. As they passed over the pansies Twinkle
heard a chorus of joyous laughter, and looking downward, she perceived
that the pansies all had faces, and the faces resembled those of happy
children.
"Wait a minute," she cried to Chubbins and the guide, and then she flew
downward until she could see the faces more plainly. They smiled and
nodded to the girl-lark, and laughed their merry laughter; but when she
spoke to them Twinkle found they were unable to answer a single word.
Many of the faces were exceedingly beautiful; but others were bold and
saucy, and a few looked at her with eyes twinkling with mischief. They
seemed very gay and contented in their paradise, so Twinkle merely
kissed one lovely face that smiled upon her and then flew away to rejoin
her companions.
[CHAPTER XVI] _The Beauty Dance_
Before long they came to another and larger sheet of water, and this
Twinkle decided was the most beautiful lake she had ever seen. Its
waters were mostly deep blue in color, although they had a changeable
effect and constantly shifted from one hue to another. Little waves
rippled all over its surface, and the edges of the waves were
glistening jewels which, as they scattered in spray and fell into the
bosom of the lake, glinted and sparkled with a thousand flashing
lights. Here were no rushes upon the shore, but instead of them banks
of gorgeous flowers grew far down to the water's edge, so that the last
ones dipped their petals into the lake itself.
Nestling upon this bank of flowers the Royal Messenger turned to his
companions and said:
"Here let us rest for a time, while I call the friendly fishes to
entertain you."
He ended his speech with a peculiar warble, and at its sound a score of
fishes thrust their heads above the surface of the water. Some of them
were gold-fish and some silver-fish, but others had opal tints that
were very pretty. Their faces were jolly in expression and their eyes,
Chubbins thought, must be diamonds, because they sparkled so brightly.
Swimming softly here and there in the lovely waters of the Lustrous
Lake, the fishes sang this song:
"We are the fishes of the lake;
Our lives are very deep;
We're always active when awake
And quiet when asleep.
"We get our fins from Finland,
From books we get out tales;
Our eyes they come from Eyerland
And weighty are our scales.
"We love to flop and twist and turn
Whenever 'tis our whim.
Yet social etiquette we learn
Because we're in the swim.
"Our beds, though damp, are always made;
We need no fires to warm us;
When we swim out we're not afraid,
For autos cannot harm us.
"We're independent little fish
And never use umbrellas.
We do exactly as we wish
And live like jolly fellows."
As the fishes concluded their song they leaped high into the air and
then plunged under the water and disappeared, and it was hard to tell
which sparkled most brilliantly, their gold and silver bodies or the
spray of jewels they scattered about them as they leaped.
"If you should dive into this lake," said Ephel the Messenger, "your
feathers would be dripping wet when you came out again. It is here we
Birds of Paradise bathe each morning, after which we visit the Gleaming
Glade to perform our Beauty Dance."
"I should like to see that glade," said Twinkle, who was determined to
let nothing escape her that she could possibly see.
"You shall," answered Ephel, promptly. "We will fly there at once."
So he led the way and presently they entered a thicker grove of trees
than any they had before noticed. The trunks were so close together
that the birds could only pass between then in single file, but as they
proceeded in this fashion it was not long before they came to a
circular space which the child-lark knew at once must be the Gleaming
Glade.
The floor was of polished gold, and so bright that as they stood upon
it they saw their forms reflected as in a mirror. The trees surrounding
them were also of gold, being beautifully engraved with many attractive
designs and set with rows of brilliant diamonds. The leaves of the
trees, however, were of burnished silver, and bore so high a gloss that
each one served as a looking-glass, reproducing the images of those
standing in the glade thousands of times, whichever way they chanced to
turn.
The gleam of these mirror-like leaves was exceedingly brilliant, but
Ephel said this radiance was much stronger in the morning, when the
rosy glow of the atmosphere was not so powerful.
"Then," said he, "the King Bird and all the Nobility of Paradise, who
rejoice in the most brilliant plumage, come here from their bath and
dance upon the golden floor the Beauty Dance, which keeps their blood
warm until the feathers have all dried. While they dance they can
admire their reflections in the mirrors, which adds greatly to their
pleasure."
"Don't they have music to dance by?" asked Chubbins.
"Of course," the Messenger replied. "There is a regular orchestra that
plays exquisite music for the dance; but the musicians are the female
Birds of Paradise, who, because their plumage is a modest brown, are
not allowed to take part in the Beauty Dance."
"I think the brown birds with the soft gray breasts are just as pretty
as the gaily clothed ones," said Twinkle. "The male birds are too
bright, and tire my eyes."
Ephel did not like this speech, for he was very proud of his own
gorgeous coloring; but he was too polite to argue with his guest, so he
let the remark pass.
"You have now witnessed the most attractive scenes in our favored
land," he said; "but there are some curious sights in the suburbs that
might serve to interest you."
"Oh! have you suburbs, too?" she asked.
"Yes, indeed. We do not like to come into too close contact with the
coarse, outer world, so we have placed the flying things that are not
birds midway between our Paradise and the great forest. They serve us
when we need them, and are under our laws and regulations; but they are
so highly favored by being permitted to occupy the outer edge of our
glorious Paradise that they willingly obey their masters. After all,
they live happy lives, and their habits, as I have said, may amuse you.
"Who are they?" enquired Chubbins.
"Come with me, and you shall see for yourselves."
They flew away from the grove of the Gleaming Glade and Ephel led them
by pleasant routes into a large garden with many pretty flowers in it.
Mostly it was filled with hollyhocks--yellow, white, scarlet and
purple.
[CHAPTER XVII] _The Queen Bee_
As they approached they heard a low, humming sound, which grew louder
as they advanced and aroused their curiosity.
"What is it?" asked Twinkle, at last.