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diff --git a/20606.txt b/20606.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..335eb42 --- /dev/null +++ b/20606.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7981 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Magic City, by Edith Nesbit + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Magic City + +Author: Edith Nesbit + +Illustrator: H. R. Millar + +Release Date: February 16, 2007 [EBook #20606] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAGIC CITY *** + + + + +Produced by Malcolm Farmer and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + +THE MAGIC CITY + +BY +E. NESBIT + +AUTHOR OF +'THE WOULD-BE-GOODS,' 'THE AMULET,' ETC. ETC. + + +WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. R. MILLAR + + MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON + 1910 + + +[Illustration: _Page 328_ _Frontispiece_ + +Three days later Mr. Noah arrived by elephant.] + + + TO + + BARBARA, MAURICE, + + AND + + STEPHEN CHANT + + THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED + + BY + + E. NESBIT + + WELL HALL, + ELTHAM, KENT, 1910. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I PAGE + THE BEGINNING 1 + + CHAPTER II + DELIVERER OR DESTROYER 30 + + CHAPTER III + LOST 65 + + CHAPTER IV + THE DRAGON-SLAYER 94 + + CHAPTER V + ON THE CARPET 131 + + CHAPTER VI + THE LIONS IN THE DESERT 160 + + CHAPTER VII + THE DWELLERS BY THE SEA 187 + + CHAPTER VIII + UPS AND DOWNS 218 + + CHAPTER IX + ON THE 'LIGHTNING LOOSE' 245 + + CHAPTER X + THE GREAT SLOTH 272 + + CHAPTER XI + THE NIGHT ATTACK 302 + + CHAPTER XII + THE END 318 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + + Three days later Mr. Noah arrived by elephant _Frontispiece_ + + 'Lor', ain't it pretty!' said the parlour-maid 17 + + Beyond it he could see dim piles that looked like + churches and houses 27 + + 'Here--I say, wake up, can't you?' 33 + + 'Top floor, if you please,' said the gaoler politely 49 + + And behind him the clatter of hot pursuit 61 + + He heard quite a loud, strong, big voice say, 'That's + better' 85 + + The gigantic porch lowered frowningly above him 91 + + He walked on and on and on 97 + + 'Silence, trespasser,' said Mr. Noah, with cold dignity 115 + + Then something hard and heavy knocked him over 127 + + Mr. Noah whispered ardently, 'Don't!' 139 + + So, all down the wide clear floor, Lucy danced 157 + + On the top of a very large and wobbly camel 169 + + It was heavy work turning the lions over 179 + + Slowly they came to the great gate of the castle 193 + + 'If your camel's not quite fresh I can mount you both' 199 + + They loved looking on 211 + + A long procession toiled slowly up it of animals in + pairs 223 + + Walked straight into the arms of Helen 243 + + He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold 261 + + Plunged headlong over the edge 269 + + The bucket began to go up 281 + + Lucy threw herself across the well parapet 287 + + And all the while it had to go on turning that handle 299 + + Philip felt that it was best to stop the car among the + suburban groves of southernwood 307 + + They leapt in and disappeared 321 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +THE BEGINNING + + +Philip Haldane and his sister lived in a little red-roofed house in a +little red-roofed town. They had a little garden and a little balcony, +and a little stable with a little pony in it--and a little cart for the +pony to draw; a little canary hung in a little cage in the little +bow-window, and the neat little servant kept everything as bright and +clean as a little new pin. + +Philip had no one but his sister, and she had no one but Philip. Their +parents were dead, and Helen, who was twenty years older than Philip and +was really his half-sister, was all the mother he had ever known. And he +had never envied other boys their mothers, because Helen was so kind and +clever and dear. She gave up almost all her time to him; she taught him +all the lessons he learned; she played with him, inventing the most +wonderful new games and adventures. So that every morning when Philip +woke he knew that he was waking to a new day of joyous and interesting +happenings. And this went on till Philip was ten years old, and he had +no least shadow of a doubt that it would go on for ever. The beginning +of the change came one day when he and Helen had gone for a picnic to +the wood where the waterfall was, and as they were driving back behind +the stout old pony, who was so good and quiet that Philip was allowed to +drive it. They were coming up the last lane before the turning where +their house was, and Helen said: + +'To-morrow we'll weed the aster bed and have tea in the garden.' + +'Jolly,' said Philip, and they turned the corner and came in sight of +their white little garden gate. And a man was coming out of it--a man +who was not one of the friends they both knew. He turned and came to +meet them. Helen put her hand on the reins--a thing which she had always +taught Philip was _never_ done--and the pony stopped. The man, who was, +as Philip put it to himself, 'tall and tweedy,' came across in front of +the pony's nose and stood close by the wheel on the side where Helen +sat. She shook hands with him, and said, 'How do you do?' in quite the +usual way. But after that they whispered. Whispered! And Philip knew +how rude it is to whisper, because Helen had often told him this. He +heard one or two words, 'at last,' and 'over now,' and 'this evening, +then.' + +After that Helen said, 'This is my brother Philip,' and the man shook +hands with him--across Helen, another thing which Philip knew was not +manners, and said, 'I hope we shall be the best of friends.' Pip said, +'How do you do?' because that is the polite thing to say. But inside +himself he said, 'I don't want to be friends with _you_.' + +Then the man took off his hat and walked away, and Philip and his sister +went home. She seemed different, somehow, and he was sent to bed a +little earlier than usual, but he could not go to sleep for a long time, +because he heard the front-door bell ring and afterwards a man's voice +and Helen's going on and on in the little drawing-room under the room +which was his bedroom. He went to sleep at last, and when he woke up in +the morning it was raining, and the sky was grey and miserable. He lost +his collar-stud, he tore one of his stockings as he pulled it on, he +pinched his finger in the door, and he dropped his tooth-mug, with water +in it too, and the mug was broken and the water went into his boots. +There are mornings, you know, when things happen like that. This was +one of them. + +Then he went down to breakfast, which tasted not quite so nice as usual. +He was late, of course. The bacon fat was growing grey with waiting for +him, as Helen said, in the cheerful voice that had always said all the +things he liked best to hear. But Philip didn't smile. It did not seem +the sort of morning for smiling, and the grey rain beat against the +window. + +After breakfast Helen said, 'Tea in the garden is indefinitely +postponed, and it's too wet for lessons.' + +That was one of her charming ideas--that wet days should not be made +worse by lessons. + +'What shall we do?' she said; 'shall we talk about the island? Shall I +make another map of it? And put in all the gardens and fountains and +swings?' + +The island was a favourite play. Somewhere in the warm seas where palm +trees are, and rainbow-coloured sands, the island was said to be--their +own island, beautified by their fancy with everything they liked and +wanted, and Philip was never tired of talking about it. There were times +when he almost believed that the island was real. He was king of the +island and Helen was queen, and no one else was to be allowed on it. +Only these two. + +But this morning even the thought of the island failed to charm. Philip +straggled away to the window and looked out dismally at the soaked lawn +and the dripping laburnum trees, and the row of raindrops hanging fat +and full on the iron gate. + +'What is it, Pippin?' Helen asked. 'Don't tell me you're going to have +horrid measles, or red-hot scarlet fever, or noisy whooping-cough.' + +She came across and laid her hand on his forehead. + +'Why, you're quite hot, boy of my heart. Tell sister, what is it?' + +'_You_ tell _me_,' said Philip slowly. + +'Tell you what, Pip?' + +'You think you ought to bear it alone, like in books, and be noble and +all that. But you _must_ tell me; you promised you'd never have any +secrets from me, Helen, you know you did.' + +Helen put her arm round him and said nothing. And from her silence Pip +drew the most desperate and harrowing conclusions. The silence lasted. +The rain gurgled in the water-pipe and dripped on the ivy. The canary in +the green cage that hung in the window put its head on one side and +tweaked a seed husk out into Philip's face, then twittered defiantly. +But his sister said nothing. + +'Don't,' said Philip suddenly, 'don't break it to me; tell me straight +out.' + +'Tell you what?' she said again. + +'What is it?' he said. '_I_ know how these unforetold misfortunes +happen. Some one always comes--and then it's broken to the family.' + +'_What_ is?' she asked. + +'The misfortune,' said Philip breathlessly. 'Oh, Helen, I'm not a baby. +Do tell me! Have we lost our money in a burst bank? Or is the landlord +going to put bailiffs into our furniture? Or are we going to be falsely +accused about forgery, or being burglars?' + +All the books Philip had ever read worked together in his mind to +produce these melancholy suggestions. Helen laughed, and instantly felt +a stiffening withdrawal of her brother from her arm. + +'No, no, my Pippin, dear,' she made haste to say. 'Nothing horrid like +that has happened.' + +'Then what is it?' he asked, with a growing impatience that felt like a +wolf gnawing inside him. + +'I didn't want to tell you all in a hurry like this,' she said +anxiously; 'but don't you worry, my boy of boys. It's something that +makes me very happy. I hope it will you, too.' + +He swung round in the circling of her arm and looked at her with sudden +ecstasy. + +'Oh, Helen, dear--I know! Some one has left you a hundred thousand +pounds a year--some one you once opened a railway-carriage door for--and +now I can have a pony of my very own to ride. Can't I?' + +'Yes,' said Helen slowly, 'you can have a pony; but nobody's left me +anything. Look here, my Pippin,' she added, very quickly, 'don't ask any +more questions. I'll tell you. When I was quite little like you I had a +dear friend I used to play with all day long, and when we grew up we +were friends still. He lived quite near us. And then he married some one +else. And then the some one died. And now he wants me to marry him. And +he's got lots of horses and a beautiful house and park,' she added. + +'And where shall I be?' he asked. + +'With me, of course, wherever I am.' + +'It won't be just us two any more, though,' said Philip, 'and you said +it should be, for ever and ever.' + +'But I didn't know then, Pip, dear. He's been wanting me so long----' + +'Don't _I_ want you?' said Pip to himself. + +'And he's got a little girl that you'll like so to play with,' she went +on. 'Her name's Lucy, and she's just a year younger than you. And +you'll be the greatest friends with her. And you'll both have ponies to +ride, and----' + +'I hate her,' cried Philip, very loud, 'and I hate him, and I hate their +beastly ponies. And I hate _you_!' And with these dreadful words he +flung off her arm and rushed out of the room, banging the door after +him--on purpose. + +Well, she found him in the boot-cupboard, among the gaiters and goloshes +and cricket-stumps and old rackets, and they kissed and cried and hugged +each other, and he said he was sorry he had been naughty. But in his +heart that was the only thing he was sorry for. He was sorry that he had +made Helen unhappy. He still hated 'that man,' and most of all he hated +Lucy. + +He had to be polite to that man. His sister was very fond of that man, +and this made Philip hate him still more, while at the same time it made +him careful not to show how he hated him. Also it made him feel that +hating that man was not quite fair to his sister, whom he loved. But +there were no feelings of that kind to come in the way of the +detestation he felt for Lucy. Helen had told him that Lucy had fair hair +and wore it in two plaits; and he pictured her to himself as a fat, +stumpy little girl, exactly like the little girl in the story of 'The +Sugar Bread' in the old oblong 'Shock-Headed Peter' book that had +belonged to Helen when she was little. + +Helen was quite happy. She divided her love between the boy she loved +and the man she was going to marry, and she believed that they were both +as happy as she was. The man, whose name was Peter Graham, was happy +enough; the boy, who was Philip, was amused--for she kept him so--but +under the amusement he was miserable. + +And the wedding-day came and went. And Philip travelled on a very hot +afternoon by strange trains and a strange carriage to a strange house, +where he was welcomed by a strange nurse and--Lucy. + +'You won't mind going to stay at Peter's beautiful house without me, +will you, dear?' Helen had asked. 'Every one will be kind to you, and +you'll have Lucy to play with.' + +And Philip said he didn't mind. What else could he say, without being +naughty and making Helen cry again? + +Lucy was not a bit like the Sugar-Bread child. She had fair hair, it is +true, and it was plaited in two braids, but they were very long and +straight; she herself was long and lean and had a freckled face and +bright, jolly eyes. + +'I'm so glad you've come,' she said, meeting him on the steps of the +most beautiful house he had ever seen; 'we can play all sort of things +now that you can't play when you're only one. I'm an only child,' she +added, with a sort of melancholy pride. Then she laughed. '"Only" rhymes +with "lonely," doesn't it?' she said. + +'I don't know,' said Philip, with deliberate falseness, for he knew +quite well. + +He said no more. + +Lucy tried two or three other beginnings of conversation, but Philip +contradicted everything she said. + +'I'm afraid he's very very stupid,' she said to her nurse, an extremely +trained nurse, who firmly agreed with her. And when her aunt came to see +her next day, Lucy said that the little new boy was stupid, and +disagreeable as well as stupid, and Philip confirmed this opinion of his +behaviour to such a degree that the aunt, who was young and +affectionate, had Lucy's clothes packed at once and carried her off for +a few days' visit. + +So Philip and the nurse were left at the Grange. There was nobody else +in the house but servants. And now Philip began to know what loneliness +meant. The letters and the picture post-cards which his sister sent +every day from the odd towns on the continent of Europe, which she +visited on her honeymoon, did not cheer the boy. They merely +exasperated him, reminding him of the time when she was all his own, and +was too near to him to need to send him post-cards and letters. + +The extremely trained nurse, who wore a grey uniform and white cap and +apron, disapproved of Philip to the depths of her well-disciplined +nature. 'Cantankerous little pig,' she called him to herself. + +To the housekeeper she said, 'He is an unusually difficult and +disagreeable child. I should imagine that his education has been much +neglected. He wants a tight hand.' + +She did not use a tight hand to him, however. She treated him with an +indifference more annoying than tyranny. He had immense liberty of a +desolate, empty sort. The great house was his to go to and fro in. But +he was not allowed to touch anything in it. The garden was his--to +wander through, but he must not pluck flowers or fruit. He had no +lessons, it is true; but, then, he had no games either. There was a +nursery, but he was not imprisoned in it--was not even encouraged to +spend his time there. He was sent out for walks, and alone, for the park +was large and safe. And the nursery was the room of all that great house +that attracted him most, for it was full of toys of the most fascinating +kind. A rocking-horse as big as a pony, the finest dolls' house you +ever saw, boxes of tea-things, boxes of bricks--both the wooden and the +terra-cotta sorts--puzzle maps, dominoes, chessmen, draughts, every kind +of toy or game that you have ever had or ever wished to have. + +And Pip was not allowed to play with any of them. + +'You mustn't touch anything, if you please,' the nurse said, with that +icy politeness which goes with a uniform. 'The toys are Miss Lucy's. No; +I couldn't be responsible for giving you permission to play with them. +No; I couldn't think of troubling Miss Lucy by writing to ask her if you +may play with them. No; I couldn't take upon myself to give you Miss +Lucy's address.' + +For Philip's boredom and his desire had humbled him even to the asking +for this. + +For two whole days he lived at the Grange, hating it and every one in +it; for the servants took their cue from the nurse, and the child felt +that in the whole house he had not a friend. Somehow he had got the idea +firmly in his head that this was a time when Helen was not to be +bothered about anything; so he wrote to her that he was quite well, +thank you, and the park was very pretty and Lucy had lots of nice toys. +He felt very brave and noble, and like a martyr. And he set his teeth +to bear it all. It was like spending a few days at the dentist's. + +And then suddenly everything changed. The nurse got a telegram. A +brother who had been thought to be drowned at sea had abruptly come +home. She must go to see him. 'If it costs me the situation,' she said +to the housekeeper, who answered: + +'Oh, well--go, then. I'll be responsible for the boy--sulky little +brat.' + +And the nurse went. In a happy bustle she packed her boxes and went. At +the last moment Philip, on the doorstep watching her climb into the +dog-cart, suddenly sprang forward. + +'Oh, Nurse!' he cried, blundering against the almost moving wheel, and +it was the first time he had called her by any name. 'Nurse, do--do say +I may take Lucy's toys to play with; it _is_ so lonely here. I may, +mayn't I? I may take them?' + +Perhaps the nurse's heart was softened by her own happiness and the +thought of the brother who was not drowned. Perhaps she was only in such +a hurry that she did not know what she was saying. At any rate, when +Philip said for the third time, 'May I take them?' she hastily +answered: + +'Bless the child! Take anything you like. Mind the wheel, for goodness' +sake. Good-bye, everybody!' waved her hand to the servants assembled at +the top of the wide steps, and was whirled off to joyous reunion with +the undrowned brother. + +Philip drew a deep breath of satisfaction, went straight up to the +nursery, took out all the toys, and examined every single one of them. +It took him all the afternoon. + +The next day he looked at all the things again and longed to make +something with them. He was accustomed to the joy that comes of making +things. He and Helen had built many a city for the dream island out of +his own two boxes of bricks and certain other things in the house--her +Japanese cabinet, the dominoes and chessmen, cardboard boxes, books, the +lids of kettles and teapots. But they had never had enough bricks. Lucy +had enough bricks for anything. + +He began to build a city on the nursery table. But to build with bricks +alone is poor work when you have been used to building with all sorts of +other things. + +'It looks like a factory,' said Philip discontentedly. He swept the +building down and replaced the bricks in their different boxes. + +'There must be something downstairs that would come in useful,' he told +himself, 'and she did say, "Take what you like."' + +By armfuls, two and three at a time, he carried down the boxes of bricks +and the boxes of blocks, the draughts, the chessmen, and the box of +dominoes. He took them into the long drawing-room where the crystal +chandeliers were, and the chairs covered in brown holland--and the many +long, light windows, and the cabinets and tables covered with the most +interesting things. + +He cleared a big writing-table of such useless and unimportant objects +as blotting-pad, silver inkstand, and red-backed books, and there was a +clear space for his city. + +He began to build. + +A bronze Egyptian god on a black and gold cabinet seemed to be looking +at him from across the room. + +'All right,' said Philip. 'I'll build you a temple. You wait a bit.' + +The bronze god waited and the temple grew, and two silver candlesticks, +topped by chessmen, served admirably as pillars for the portico. He made +a journey to the nursery to fetch the Noah's Ark animals--the pair of +elephants, each standing on a brick, flanked the entrance. It looked +splendid, like an Assyrian temple in the pictures Helen had shown him. +But the bricks, wherever he built with them alone, looked mean, and like +factories or workhouses. Bricks alone always do. + +Philip explored again. He found the library. He made several journeys. +He brought up twenty-seven volumes bound in white vellum with marbled +boards, a set of Shakespeare, ten volumes in green morocco. These made +pillars and cloisters, dark, mysterious, and attractive. More Noah's Ark +animals added an Egyptian-looking finish to the building. + +'Lor', ain't it pretty!' said the parlour-maid, who came to call him to +tea. 'You are clever with your fingers, Master Philip, I will say that +for you. But you'll catch it, taking all them things.' + +'That grey nurse said I might,' said Philip, 'and it doesn't hurt things +building with them. My sister and I always did it at home,' he added, +looking confidingly at the parlour-maid. She had praised his building. +And it was the first time he had mentioned his sister to any one in that +house. + +'Well, it's as good as a peep-show,' said the parlour-maid; 'it's just +like them picture post-cards my brother in India sends me. All them +pillars and domes and things--and the animals too. I don't know how you +fare to think of such things, that I don't.' + +[Illustration: 'Lor', ain't it pretty!' said the parlour-maid.] + +Praise is sweet. He slipped his hand into that of the parlour-maid as +they went down the wide stairs to the hall, where tea awaited him--a +very little tray on a very big, dark table. + +'He's not half a bad child,' said Susan at her tea in the servants' +quarters. 'That nurse frightened him out of his little wits with her +prim ways, you may depend. He's civil enough if you speak him civil.' + +'But Miss Lucy didn't frighten him, I suppose,' said the cook; 'and look +how he behaved to her.' + +'Well, he's quiet enough, anyhow. You don't hear a breath of him from +morning till night,' said the upper housemaid; 'seems silly-like to me.' + +'You slip in and look what he's been building, that's all,' Susan told +them. 'You won't call him silly then. India an' pagodas ain't in it.' + +They did slip in, all of them, when Philip had gone to bed. The building +had progressed, though it was not finished. + +'I shan't touch a thing,' said Susan. 'Let him have it to play with +to-morrow. We'll clear it all away before that nurse comes back with her +caps and her collars and her stuck-up cheek.' + +So next day Philip went on with his building. He put everything you can +think of into it: the dominoes, and the domino-box; bricks and books; +cotton-reels that he begged from Susan, and a collar-box and some +cake-tins contributed by the cook. He made steps of the dominoes and a +terrace of the domino-box. He got bits of southernwood out of the garden +and stuck them in cotton-reels, which made beautiful pots, and they +looked like bay trees in tubs. Brass finger-bowls served for domes, and +the lids of brass kettles and coffee-pots from the oak dresser in the +hall made minarets of dazzling splendour. Chessmen were useful for +minarets, too. + +'I must have paved paths and a fountain,' said Philip thoughtfully. The +paths were paved with mother-of-pearl card counters, and the fountain +was a silver and glass ash-tray, with a needlecase of filigree silver +rising up from the middle of it; and the falling water was made quite +nicely out of narrow bits of the silver paper off the chocolate Helen +had given him at parting. Palm trees were easily made--Helen had shown +him how to do that--with bits of larch fastened to elder stems with +plasticine. There was plenty of plasticine among Lucy's toys; there was +plenty of everything. + +And the city grew, till it covered the table. Philip, unwearied, set +about to make another city on another table. This had for chief feature +a great water-tower, with a fountain round its base; and now he stopped +at nothing. He unhooked the crystal drops from the great chandeliers to +make his fountains. This city was grander than the first. It had a grand +tower made of a waste-paper basket and an astrologer's tower that was a +photograph-enlarging machine. + +The cities were really very beautiful. I wish I could describe them +thoroughly to you. But it would take pages and pages. Besides all the +things I have told of alone there were towers and turrets and grand +staircases, pagodas and pavilions, canals made bright and water-like by +strips of silver paper, and a lake with a boat on it. Philip put into +his buildings all the things out of the doll's house that seemed +suitable. The wooden things-to-eat and dishes. The leaden tea-cups and +goblets. He peopled the place with dominoes and pawns. The handsome +chessmen were used for minarets. He made forts and garrisoned them with +lead soldiers. + +He worked hard and he worked cleverly, and as the cities grew in beauty +and interestingness he loved them more and more. He was happy now. There +was no time to be unhappy in. + +'I will keep it as it is till Helen comes. How she will _love_ it!' he +said. + +The two cities were connected by a bridge which was a yard-stick he had +found in the servants' sewing-room and taken without hindrance, for by +this time all the servants were his friends. Susan had been the +first--that was all. + +He had just laid his bridge in place, and put Mr. and Mrs. Noah in the +chief square to represent the inhabitants, and was standing rapt in +admiration of his work, when a hard hand on each of his shoulders made +him start and scream. + +It was the nurse. She had come back a day sooner than any one expected +her. The brother had brought home a wife, and she and the nurse had not +liked each other; so she was very cross, and she took Philip by the +shoulders and shook him, a thing which had never happened to him before. + +'You naughty, wicked boy!' she said, still shaking. + +'But I haven't hurt anything--I'll put everything back,' he said, +trembling and very pale. + +'You'll not touch any of it again,' said the nurse. 'I'll see to that. I +shall put everything away myself in the morning. Taking what doesn't +belong to you!' + +'But you said I might take anything I liked,' said Philip, 'so if it's +wrong it's your fault.' + +'You untruthful child!' cried the nurse, and hit him over the knuckles. +Now, no one had ever hit Philip before. He grew paler than ever, but he +did not cry, though his hands hurt rather badly. For she had snatched up +the yard-stick to hit him with, and it was hard and cornery. + +'You are a coward,' said Philip, 'and it is you who are untruthful and +not me.' + +'Hold your tongue,' said the nurse, and whirled him off to bed. + +'You'll get no supper, so there!' she said, angrily tucking him up. + +'I don't want any,' said Philip, 'and I have to forgive you before the +sun goes down.' + +'Forgive, indeed!' said she, flouncing out. + +'When you get sorry you'll know I've forgiven you,' Philip called after +her, which, of course, made her angrier than ever. + +Whether Philip cried when he was alone is not our business. Susan, who +had watched the shaking and the hitting without daring to interfere, +crept up later with milk and sponge-cakes. She found him asleep, and she +says his eyelashes were wet. + +When he awoke he thought at first that it was morning, the room was so +light. But presently he saw that it was not yellow sunlight but white +moonshine which made the beautiful brightness. + +He wondered at first why he felt so unhappy, then he remembered how +Helen had gone away and how hateful the nurse had been. And now she +would pull down the city and Helen would never see it. And he would +never be able to build such a beautiful one again. In the morning it +would be gone, and he would not be able even to remember how it was +built. + +The moonlight was very bright. + +'I wonder how my city looks by moonlight?' he said. + +And then, all in a thrilling instant, he made up his mind to go down and +see for himself how it did look. + +He slipped on his dressing-gown, opened his door softly, and crept along +the corridor and down the broad staircase, then along the gallery and +into the drawing-room. It was very dark, but he felt his way to a window +and undid the shutter, and there lay his city, flooded with moonlight, +just as he had imagined it. + +He gazed on it for a moment in ecstasy and then turned to shut the door. +As he did so he felt a slight strange giddiness and stood a moment with +his hand to his head. He turned and went again towards the city, and +when he was close to it he gave a little cry, hastily stifled, for fear +some one should hear him and come down and send him to bed. He stood and +gazed about him bewildered and, once more, rather giddy. For the city +had, in a quick blink of light, followed by darkness, disappeared. So +had the drawing-room. So had the chair that stood close to the table. He +could see mountainous shapes raising enormous heights in the distance, +and the moonlight shone on the tops of them. But he himself seemed to be +in a vast, flat plain. There was the softness of long grass round his +feet, but there were no trees, no houses, no hedges or fences to break +the expanse of grass. It seemed darker in some parts than others. That +was all. It reminded him of the illimitable prairie of which he had read +in books of adventure. + +'I suppose I'm dreaming,' said Philip, 'though I don't see how I can +have gone to sleep just while I was turning the door handle. +However----' + +He stood still expecting that something would happen. In dreams +something always does happen, if it's only that the dream comes to an +end. But nothing happened now--Philip just stood there quite quietly and +felt the warm soft grass round his ankles. + +Then, as his eyes became used to the darkness of the plain, he saw some +way off a very steep bridge leading up to a dark height on whose summit +the moon shone whitely. He walked towards it, and as he approached he +saw that it was less like a bridge than a sort of ladder, and that it +rose to a giddy height above him. It seemed to rest on a rock far up +against dark sky, and the inside of the rock seemed hollowed out in one +vast dark cave. + +[Illustration: Beyond it he could see dim piles that looked like +churches and houses.] + +And now he was close to the foot of the ladder. It had no rungs, but +narrow ledges made hold for feet and hands. Philip remembered Jack and +the Beanstalk, and looked up longingly; but the ladder was a very very +long one. On the other hand, it was the only thing that seemed to lead +anywhere, and he had had enough of standing lonely in the grassy +prairie, where he seemed to have been for a very long time indeed. So he +put his hands and feet to the ladder and began to go up. It was a very +long climb. There were three hundred and eight steps, for he counted +them. And the steps were only on one side of the ladder, so he had to +be extremely careful. On he went, up and on, on and up, till his feet +ached and his hands felt as though they would drop off for tiredness. He +could not look up far, and he dared not look down at all. There was +nothing for it but to climb and climb and climb, and at last he saw the +ground on which the ladder rested--a terrace hewn in regular lines, and, +as it seemed, hewn from the solid rock. His head was level with the +ground, now his hands, now his feet. He leaped sideways from the ladder +and threw himself face down on the ground, which was cold and smooth +like marble. There he lay, drawing deep breaths of weariness and relief. + +There was a great silence all about, which rested and soothed, and +presently he rose and looked around him. He was close to an archway with +very thick pillars, and he went towards it and peeped cautiously in. It +seemed to be a great gate leading to an open space, and beyond it he +could see dim piles that looked like churches and houses. But all was +deserted; the moonlight and he had the place, whatever it was, to +themselves. + +'I suppose every one's in bed,' said Philip, and stood there trembling a +little, but very curious and interested, in the black shadow of the +strange arch. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +DELIVERER OR DESTROYER + + +Philip stood in the shadow of the dark arch and looked out. He saw +before him a great square surrounded by tall irregular buildings. In the +middle was a fountain whose waters, silver in the moonlight, rose and +fell with gentle plashing sound. A tall tree, close to the archway, cast +the shadow of its trunk across the path--a broad black bar. He listened, +listened, listened, but there was nothing to listen to, except the deep +night silence and the changing soft sound the fountain made. + +His eyes, growing accustomed to the dimness, showed him that he was +under a heavy domed roof supported on large square pillars--to the right +and left stood dark doors, shut fast. + +'I will explore these doors by daylight,' he said. He did not feel +exactly frightened. But he did not feel exactly brave either. But he +wished and intended to be brave, so he said, 'I will explore these +doors. At least I think I will,' he added, for one must not only be +brave but truthful. + +And then suddenly he felt very sleepy. He leaned against the wall, and +presently it seemed that sitting down would be less trouble, and then +that lying down would be more truly comfortable. A bell from very very +far away sounded the hour, twelve. Philip counted up to nine, but he +missed the tenth bell-beat, and the eleventh and the twelfth as well, +because he was fast asleep cuddled up warmly in the thick quilted +dressing-gown that Helen had made him last winter. He dreamed that +everything was as it used to be before That Man came and changed +everything and took Helen away. He was in his own little bed in his own +little room in their own little house, and Helen had come to call him. +He could see the sunlight through his closed eyelids--he was keeping +them closed just for the fun of hearing her try to wake him, and +presently he would tell her he had been awake all the time, and they +would laugh together about it. And then he awoke, and he was not in his +soft bed at home but on the hard floor of a big, strange gate-house, and +it was not Helen who was shaking him and saying, 'Here--I say, wake up, +can't you,' but a tall man in a red coat; and the light that dazzled his +eyes was not from the sun at all, but from a horn lantern which the man +was holding close to his face. + +'What's the matter?' said Philip sleepily. + +'That's the question,' said the man in red. 'Come along to the +guard-room and give an account of yourself, you young shaver.' + +He took Philip's ear gently but firmly between a very hard finger and +thumb. + +'Leave go,' said Philip, 'I'm not going to run away.' And he stood up +feeling very brave. + +The man shifted his hold from ear to shoulder and led Philip through one +of those doors which he had thought of exploring by daylight. It was not +daylight yet, and the room, large and bare, with an arch at each end and +narrow little windows at the sides, was lighted by horn lanterns and +tall tapers in pewter candlesticks. It seemed to Philip that the room +was full of soldiers. + +Their captain, with a good deal of gold about him and a very smart black +moustache, got up from a bench. + +'Look what I've caught, sir,' said the man who owned the hand on +Philip's shoulder. + +'Humph,' said the captain, 'so it's really happened at last.' + +[Illustration: 'Here--I say, wake up, can't you?'] + +'What has?' said Philip. + +'Why, you have,' said the captain. 'Don't be frightened, little man.' + +'I'm not frightened,' said Philip, and added politely, 'I should be so +much obliged if you'd tell me what you mean.' He added something which +he had heard people say when they asked the way to the market or the +public gardens, 'I'm quite a stranger here,' he said. + +A jolly roar of laughter went up from the red-coats. + +'It isn't manners to laugh at strangers,' said Philip. + +'Mind your own manners,' said the captain sharply; 'in this country +little boys speak when they're spoken to. Stranger, eh? Well, we knew +that, you know!' + +Philip, though he felt snubbed, yet felt grand too. Here he was in the +middle of an adventure with grown-up soldiers. He threw out his chest +and tried to look manly. + +The captain sat down in a chair at the end of a long table, drew a black +book to him--a black book covered with dust--and began to rub a rusty +pen-nib on his sword, which was not rusty. + +'Come now,' he said, opening the book, 'tell me how you came here. And +mind you speak the truth.' + +'I _always_ speak the truth,' said Philip proudly. + +All the soldiers rose and saluted him with looks of deep surprise and +respect. + +'Well, nearly always,' said Philip, hot to the ears, and the soldiers +clattered stiffly down again on to the benches, laughing once more. +Philip had imagined there to be more discipline in the army. + +'How did you come here?' said the captain. + +'Up the great bridge staircase,' said Philip. + +The captain wrote busily in the book. + +'What did you come for?' + +'I didn't know what else to do. There was nothing but illimitable +prairie--and so I came up.' + +'You are a very bold boy,' said the captain. + +'Thank you,' said Philip. 'I do _want_ to be.' + +'What was your purpose in coming?' + +'I didn't do it on purpose--I just happened to come.' + +The captain wrote that down too. And then he and Philip and the soldiers +looked at each other in silence. + +'Well?' said the boy. + +'Well?' said the captain. + +'I do wish,' said the boy, 'you'd tell me what you meant by my really +happening after all. And then I wish you'd tell me the way home.' + +'Where do you want to get to?' asked the captain. + +'The _address_,' said Philip, 'is The Grange, Ravelsham, Sussex.' + +'Don't know it,' said the captain briefly, 'and anyhow you can't go back +there now. Didn't you read the notice at the top of the ladder? +Trespassers will be prosecuted. You've got to be prosecuted before +you can go back anywhere.' + +'I'd rather be persecuted than go down that ladder again,' he said. +'I suppose it won't be very bad--being persecuted, I mean?' + +His idea of persecution was derived from books. He thought it +to be something vaguely unpleasant from which one escaped in +disguise--adventurous and always successful. + +'That's for the judges to decide,' said the captain, 'it's a serious +thing trespassing in our city. This guard is put here expressly to +prevent it.' + +'Do you have many trespassers?' Philip asked. The captain seemed kind, +and Philip had a great-uncle who was a judge, so the word judges made +him think of tips and good advice, rather than of justice and +punishment. + +'Many trespassers indeed!' the captain almost snorted his answer. +'That's just it. There's never been one before. You're the first. For +years and years and years there's been a guard here, because when the +town was first built the astrologers foretold that some day there would +be a trespasser who would do untold mischief. So it's our +privilege--we're the Polistopolitan guards--to keep watch over the only +way by which a trespasser could come in.' + +'May I sit down?' said Philip suddenly, and the soldiers made room for +him on the bench. + +'My father and my grandfather and all my ancestors were in the guards,' +said the captain proudly. 'It's a very great honour.' + +'I wonder,' said Philip, 'why you don't cut off the end of your +ladder--the top end I mean; then nobody could come up.' + +'That would never do,' said the captain, 'because, you see, there's +another prophecy. The great deliverer is to come that way.' + +'Couldn't I,' suggested Philip shyly, 'couldn't I be the deliverer +instead of the trespasser? I'd much rather, you know.' + +'I daresay you would,' said the captain; 'but people can't be deliverers +just because they'd much rather, you know.' + +'And isn't any one to come up the ladder bridge except just those two?' + +'We don't know; that's just it. You know what prophecies are.' + +'I'm afraid I don't--exactly.' + +'So vague and mixed up, I mean. The one I'm telling you about goes +something like this. + + Who comes up the ladder stair? + Beware, beware, + Steely eyes and copper hair + Strife and grief and pain to bear + All come up the ladder stair. + +You see we can't tell whether that means one person or a lot of people +with steely eyes and copper hair.' + +'My hair's just plain boy-colour,' said Philip; 'my sister says so, and +my eyes are blue, I believe.' + +'I can't see in this light;' the captain leaned his elbows on the table +and looked earnestly in the boy's eyes. 'No, I can't see. The other +prophecy goes: + + From down and down and very far down + The king shall come to take his own; + He shall deliver the Magic town, + And all that he made shall be his own. + Beware, take care. Beware, prepare, + The king shall come by the ladder stair. + +'How jolly,' said Philip; 'I love poetry. Do you know any more?' + +'There are heaps of prophecies of course,' said the captain; 'the +astrologers must do _something_ to earn their pay. There's rather a nice +one: + + Every night when the bright stars blink + The guards shall turn out, and have a drink + As the clock strikes two. + And every night when no stars are seen + The guards shall drink in their own canteen + When the clock strikes two. + +To-night there aren't any stars, so we have the drinks served here. It's +less trouble than going across the square to the canteen, and the +principle's the same. Principle is the great thing with a prophecy, my +boy.' + +'Yes,' said Philip. And then the far-away bell beat again. One, two. And +outside was a light patter of feet. + +A soldier rose--saluted his officer and threw open the door. There was a +moment's pause; Philip expected some one to come in with a tray and +glasses, as they did at his great-uncle's when gentlemen were suddenly +thirsty at times that were not meal-times. + +But instead, after a moment's pause, a dozen greyhounds stepped daintily +in on their padded cat-like feet; and round the neck of each dog was +slung a roundish thing that looked like one of the little barrels which +St. Bernard dogs wear round their necks in the pictures. And when these +were loosened and laid on the table Philip was charmed to see that the +roundish things were not barrels but cocoa-nuts. + +The soldiers reached down some pewter pots from a high shelf--pierced +the cocoa-nuts with their bayonets and poured out the cocoa-nut milk. +They all had drinks, so the prophecy came true, and what is more they +gave Philip a drink as well. It was delicious, and there was as much of +it as he wanted. I have never had as much cocoa-nut milk as I wanted. +Have you? + +Then the hollow cocoa-nuts were tied on to the dogs' necks again and out +they went, slim and beautiful, two by two, wagging their slender tails, +in the most amiable and orderly way. + +'They take the cocoa-nuts to the town kitchen,' said the captain, 'to be +made into cocoa-nut ice for the army breakfast; waste not want not, you +know. We don't waste anything here, my boy.' Philip had quite got over +his snubbing. He now felt that the captain was talking with him as man +to man. Helen had gone away and left him; well, he was learning to do +without Helen. And he had got away from the Grange, and Lucy, and that +nurse. He was a man among men. And then, just as he was feeling most +manly and important, and quite equal to facing any number of judges, +there came a little tap at the door of the guard-room, and a very little +voice said: + +'Oh, do please let me come in.' + +Then the door opened slowly. + +'Well, come in, whoever you are,' said the captain. And the person who +came in was--Lucy. Lucy, whom Philip thought he had got rid of--Lucy, +who stood for the new hateful life to which Helen had left him. Lucy, in +her serge skirt and jersey, with her little sleek fair pig-tails, and +that anxious 'I-wish-we-could-be-friends' smile of hers. Philip was +furious. It was too bad. + +'And who is this?' the captain was saying kindly. + +'It's me--it's Lucy,' she said. 'I came up with _him_.' + +She pointed to Philip. 'No manners,' thought Philip in bitterness. + +'No, you didn't,' he said shortly. + +'I did--I was close behind you when you were climbing the ladder bridge. +And I've been waiting alone ever since, when you were asleep and all. I +_knew_ he'd be cross when he knew I'd come,' she explained to the +soldiers. + +'I'm _not_ cross,' said Philip very crossly indeed, but the captain +signed to him to be silent. Then Lucy was questioned and her answers +written in the book, and when that was done the captain said: + +'So this little girl is a friend of yours?' + +'No, she isn't,' said Philip violently; 'she's not my friend, and she +never will be. I've seen her, that's all, and I don't want to see her +again.' + +'You _are_ unkind,' said Lucy. + +And then there was a grave silence, most unpleasant to Philip. The +soldiers, he perceived, now looked coldly at him. It was all Lucy's +fault. What did she want to come shoving in for, spoiling everything? +Any one but a girl would have known that a guard-room wasn't the right +place for a girl. He frowned and said nothing. Lucy had smuggled up +against the captain's knee, and he was stroking her hair. + +'Poor little woman,' he said. 'You must go to sleep now, so as to be +rested before you go to the Hall of Justice in the morning.' + +They made Lucy a bed of soldiers' cloaks laid on a bench; and bearskins +are the best of pillows. Philip had a soldier's cloak and a bench, and a +bearskin too--but what was the good? Everything was spoiled. If Lucy had +not come the guard-room as a sleeping-place would have been almost as +good as the tented field. But she _had_ come, and the guard-room was no +better now than any old night-nursery. And how had she known? How had +she come? How had she made her way to that illimitable prairie where he +had found the mysterious beginning of the ladder bridge? He went to +sleep a bunched-up lump of prickly discontent and suppressed fury. + +When he woke it was bright daylight, and a soldier was saying, 'Wake up, +Trespassers. Breakfast----' + +'How jolly,' thought Philip, 'to be having military breakfast.' Then he +remembered Lucy, and hated her being there, and felt once more that she +had spoiled everything. + +I should not, myself, care for a breakfast of cocoa-nut ice, peppermint +creams, apples, bread and butter and sweet milk. But the soldiers seemed +to enjoy it. And it would have exactly suited Philip if he had not seen +that Lucy was enjoying it too. + +'I do hate greedy girls,' he told himself, for he was now in that state +of black rage when you hate everything the person you are angry with +does or says or is. + +And now it was time to start for the Hall of Justice. The guard formed +outside, and Philip noticed that each soldier stood on a sort of green +mat. When the order to march was given, each soldier quickly and +expertly rolled up his green mat and put it under his arm. And whenever +they stopped, because of the crowd, each soldier unrolled his green mat, +and stood on it till it was time to go on again. And they had to stop +several times, for the crowd was very thick in the great squares and in +the narrow streets of the city. It was a wonderful crowd. There were men +and women and children in every sort of dress. Italian, Spanish, +Russian; French peasants in blue blouses and wooden shoes, workmen in +the dress English working people wore a hundred years ago. Norwegians, +Swedes, Swiss, Turks, Greeks, Indians, Arabians, Chinese, Japanese, +besides Red Indians in dresses of skins, and Scots in kilts and +sporrans. Philip did not know what nation most of the dresses belonged +to--to him it was a brilliant patchwork of gold and gay colours. It +reminded him of the fancy-dress party he had once been to with Helen, +when he wore a Pierrot's dress and felt very silly in it. He noticed +that not a single boy in all that crowd was dressed as he was--in what +he thought was the only correct dress for boys. Lucy walked beside him. +Once, just after they started, she said, 'Aren't you frightened, +Philip?' and he would not answer, though he longed to say, 'Of course +not. It's only girls who are afraid.' But he thought it would be more +disagreeable to say nothing, so he said it. + +When they got to the Hall of Justice, she caught hold of his hand, and +said: + +'Oh!' very loud and sudden, 'doesn't it remind you of anything?' she +asked. + +Philip pulled his hand away and said 'No' before he remembered that he +had decided not to speak to her. And the 'No' was quite untrue, for the +building did remind him of something, though he couldn't have told you +what. + +The prisoners and their guard passed through a great arch between +magnificent silver pillars, and along a vast corridor, lined with +soldiers who all saluted. + +'Do all sorts of soldiers salute you?' he asked the captain, 'or only +just your own ones?' + +'It's _you_ they're saluting,' the captain said; 'our laws tell us to +salute all prisoners out of respect for their misfortunes.' + +The judge sat on a high bronze throne with colossal bronze dragons on +each side of it, and wide shallow steps of ivory, black and white. + +Two attendants spread a round mat on the top of the steps in front of +the judge--a yellow mat it was, and very thick, and he stood up and +saluted the prisoners. ('Because of your misfortunes,' the captain +whispered.) + +The judge wore a bright yellow robe with a green girdle, and he had no +wig, but a very odd-shaped hat, which he kept on all the time. + +The trial did not last long, and the captain said very little, and the +judge still less, while the prisoners were not allowed to speak at all. +The judge looked up something in a book, and consulted in a low voice +with the crown lawyer and a sour-faced person in black. Then he put on +his spectacles and said: + +'Prisoners at the bar, you are found guilty of trespass. The punishment +is Death--if the judge does not like the prisoners. If he does not +dislike them it is imprisonment for life, or until the judge has had +time to think it over. Remove the prisoners.' + +'Oh, _don't_!' cried Philip, almost weeping. + +'I thought you weren't afraid,' whispered Lucy. + +'Silence in court,' said the judge. + +Then Philip and Lucy were removed. + +They were marched by streets quite different from those they had come +by, and at last in the corner of a square they came to a large house +that was quite black. + +'Here we are,' said the captain kindly. 'Good-bye. Better luck next +time.' + +The gaoler, a gentleman in black velvet, with a ruff and a pointed +beard, came out and welcomed them cordially. + +'How do you do, my dears?' he said. 'I hope you'll be comfortable here. +First-class misdemeanants, I suppose?' he asked. + +'Of course,' said the captain. + +'Top floor, if you please,' said the gaoler politely, and stood back to +let the children pass. 'Turn to the left and up the stairs.' + +[Illustration: 'Top floor, if you please,' said the gaoler politely.] + +The stairs were dark and went on and on, and round and round, and up and +up. At the very top was a big room, simply furnished with a table, +chairs, and a rocking-horse. Who wants more furniture than that? + +'You've got the best view in the whole city,' said the gaoler, 'and +you'll be company for me. What? They gave me the post of gaoler because +it's nice, light, gentlemanly work, and leaves me time for my writing. +I'm a literary man, you know. But I've sometimes found it a trifle +lonely. You're the first prisoners I've ever had, you see. If you'll +excuse me I'll go and order some dinner for you. You'll be contented +with the feast of reason and the flow of soul, I feel certain.' + +The moment the door had closed on the gaoler's black back Philip turned +on Lucy. + +'I hope you're satisfied,' he said bitterly. 'This is all _your_ doing. +They'd have let me off if you hadn't been here. What on earth did you +want to come here for? Why did you come running after me like that? +You know I don't like you?' + +'You're the hatefullest, disagreeablest, horridest boy in all the +world,' said Lucy firmly--'there!' + +Philip had not expected this. He met it as well as he could. + +'I'm not a little sneak of a white mouse squeezing in where I'm not +wanted, anyhow,' he said. + +And then they stood looking at each other, breathing quickly, both of +them. + +'I'd rather be a white mouse than a cruel bully,' said Lucy at last. + +'I'm not a bully,' said Philip. + +Then there was another silence. Lucy sniffed. Philip looked round the +bare room, and suddenly it came to him that he and Lucy were companions +in misfortune, no matter whose fault it was that they were imprisoned. +So he said: + +'Look here, I don't like you and I shan't pretend I do. But I'll call it +Pax for the present if you like. We've got to escape from this place +somehow, and I'll help you if you like, and you may help me if you can.' + +'Thank you,' said Lucy, in a tone which might have meant anything. + +'So we'll call it Pax and see if we can escape by the window. There +might be ivy--or a faithful page with a rope ladder. Have you a page at +the Grange?' + +'There's two stable-boys,' said Lucy, 'but I don't think they're +faithful, and I say, I think all this is much more magic than you +think.' + +'Of course I know it's magic,' said he impatiently; 'but it's quite real +too.' + +'Oh, it's real enough,' said she. + +They leaned out of the window. Alas, there was no ivy. Their window was +very high up, and the wall outside, when they touched it with their +hand, felt smooth as glass. + +'_That's_ no go,' said he, and the two leaned still farther out of the +window looking down on the town. There were strong towers and fine +minarets and palaces, the palm trees and fountains and gardens. A white +building across the square looked strangely familiar. Could it be like +St. Paul's which Philip had been taken to see when he was very little, +and which he had never been able to remember? No, he could not remember +it even now. The two prisoners looked out in a long silence. Far below +lay the city, its trees softly waving in the breeze, flowers shining in +a bright many-coloured patchwork, the canals that intersected the big +squares gleamed in the sunlight, and crossing and recrossing the +squares and streets were the people of the town, coming and going about +their business. + +'Look here!' said Lucy suddenly, 'do you mean to say you don't know?' + +'Know what?' he asked impatiently. + +'Where we are. What it is. Don't you?' + +'No. No more do you.' + +'Haven't you seen it all before?' + +'No, of course I haven't. No more have you.' + +'All right. I _have_ seen it before though,' said Lucy, 'and so have +you. But I shan't tell you what it is unless you'll be nice to me.' Her +tone was a little sad, but quite firm. + +'I _am_ nice to you. I told you it was Pax,' said Philip. 'Tell me what +you think it is.' + +'I don't mean that sort of grandish standoffish Pax, but real Pax. Oh, +don't be so horrid, Philip. I'm dying to tell you--but I won't if you go +on being like you are.' + +'_I'm_ all right,' said Philip; 'out with it.' + +'No. You've got to say it's Pax, and I will stand by you till we get out +of this, and I'll always act like a noble friend to you, and I'll try my +best to like you. Of course if you can't like me you can't, but you +ought to try. Say it after me, won't you?' + +Her tone was so kind and persuading that he found himself saying after +her, 'I, Philip, agree to try and like you, Lucy, and to stand by you +till we're out of this, and always to act the part of a noble friend to +you. And it's real Pax. Shake hands.' + +'Now then,' said he when they had shaken hands, and Lucy uttered these +words: + +'Don't you see? It's your own city that we're in, your own city that you +built on the tables in the drawing-room? It's all got big by magic, so +that we could get in. Look,' she pointed out of the window, 'see that +great golden dome, that's one of the brass finger-bowls, and that white +building's my old model of St. Paul's. And there's Buckingham Palace +over there, with the carved squirrel on the top, and the chessmen, and +the blue and white china pepper-pots; and the building we're in is the +black Japanese cabinet.' + +Philip looked and he saw that what she said was true. It _was_ his city. + +'But I didn't build insides to my buildings,' said he; 'and when did +_you_ see what I built anyway?' + +'The insides are part of the magic, I suppose,' Lucy said; 'and I saw +the cities you built when Auntie brought me home last night, after you'd +been sent to bed. And I did love them. And oh, Philip, I'm so glad it's +Pax because I do think you're so _frightfully_ clever, and Auntie +thought so too, building those beautiful things. And I knew nurse was +going to pull it all down. I begged her not to, but she was addymant, +and so I got up and dressed and came down to have another look by +moonlight. And one or two of the bricks and chessmen had fallen down. I +expect nurse knocked them down. So I built them up again as well as I +could--and I was loving it all like anything; and then the door opened +and I hid under the table, and you came in.' + +'Then you were there--did you notice how the magic began?' + +'No, but it all changed to grass; and then I saw you a long way off, +going up a ladder. And so I went after you. But I didn't let you see me. +I knew you'd be so cross. And then I looked in at the guard-room door, +and I did so want some of the cocoa-nut milk.' + +'When did you find out it was _my_ city?' + +'I thought the soldiers looked like my lead ones somehow. But I wasn't +sure till I saw the judge. Why he's just old Noah, out of the Ark.' + +'So he is,' cried Philip; 'how wonderful! How perfectly wonderful! I +wish we weren't prisoners. Wouldn't it be jolly to go all over it--into +all the buildings, to see what the insides of them have turned into? +And all the other people. I didn't put _them_ in.' + +'That's more magic, I expect. But--Oh, we shall find it all out in +time.' + +She clapped her hands. And on the instant the door opened and the gaoler +appeared. + +'A visitor for you,' he said, and stood aside to let some one else come +in, some one tall and thin, with a black hooded cloak and a black +half-mask, such as people wear at carnival time. + +When the gaoler had shut the door and gone away the tall figure took off +its mask and let fall its cloak, showing to the surprised but +recognising eyes of the children the well-known shape of Mr. Noah--the +judge. + +'How do you do?' he said. 'This is a little unofficial visit. I hope I +haven't come at an inconvenient time.' + +'We're very glad,' said Lucy, 'because you can tell us----' + +'I won't answer questions,' said Mr. Noah, sitting down stiffly on his +yellow mat, 'but I will tell you something. We don't know who you are. +But I myself think that you may be the Deliverer.' + +'Both of us,' said Philip jealously. + +'One or both. You see the prophecy says that the Destroyer's hair is +red. And your hair is not red. But before I could get the populace to +feel sure of, that my own hair would be grey with thought and argument. +Some people are so wooden-headed. And I am not used to thinking. I don't +often have to do it. It distresses me.' + +The children said they were sorry. Philip added: + +'Do tell us a little about your city. It isn't a question. We want to +know if it's magic. That isn't a question either.' + +'I was about to tell you,' said Mr. Noah, 'and I will not answer +questions. Of course it is magic. Everything in the world is magic, +until you understand it. + +'And as to the city. I will just tell you a little of our history. Many +thousand years ago all the cities of our country were built by a great +and powerful giant, who brought the materials from far and wide. The +place was peopled partly by persons of his choice, and partly by a sort +of self-acting magic rather difficult to explain. As soon as the cities +were built and the inhabitants placed here the life of the city began, +and it was, to those who lived it, as though it had always been. The +artisans toiled, the musicians played, and the poets sang. The +astrologers, finding themselves in a tall tower evidently designed for +such a purpose, began to observe the stars and to prophesy.' + +'I know that part,' said Philip. + +'Very well,' said the judge. 'Then you know quite enough. Now I want to +ask a little favour of you both. Would you mind escaping?' + +'If we only could,' Lucy sighed. + +'The strain on my nerves is too much,' said Mr. Noah feelingly. 'Escape, +my dear children, to please me, a very old man in indifferent health and +poor spirits.' + +'But how----' + +'Oh, you just walk out. You, my boy, can disguise yourself in your +dressing-gown which I see has been placed on yonder chair, and I will +leave my cloak for you, little girl.' + +They both said 'Thank you,' and Lucy added: 'But _how_?' + +'Through the door,' said the judge. 'There is a rule about putting +prisoners on their honour not to escape, but there have not been any +prisoners for so long that I don't suppose they put you on honour. No? +You can just walk out of the door. There are many charitable persons in +the city who will help to conceal you. The front-door key turns easily, +and I myself will oil it as I go out. Good-bye--thank you so much for +falling in with my little idea. Accept an old man's blessing. Only +don't tell the gaoler. He would never forgive me.' + +He got off his mat, rolled it up and went. + +'Well!' said Lucy. + +'Well!' said Philip. + +'I suppose we go?' he said. But Lucy said, 'What about the gaoler? Won't +he catch it if we bolt?' + +Philip felt this might be true. It was annoying, and as bad as being put +on one's honour. + +'Bother!' was what he said. + +And then the gaoler came in. He looked pale and worried. + +'I am so awfully sorry,' he began. 'I thought I should enjoy having you +here, but my nerves are all anyhow. The very sound of your voices. I +can't write a line. My brain reels. I wonder whether you'd be good +enough to do a little thing for me? Would you mind escaping?' + +'But won't you get into trouble?' + +'Nothing could be worse than this,' said the gaoler, with feeling. 'I +had no idea that children's voices were so penetrating. Go, go. I +implore you to escape. Only don't tell the judge. I am sure he would +never forgive me.' + +After that, what prisoner would not immediately have escaped? + +The two children only waited till the sound of the gaoler's keys had +died away on the stairs, to open their door, run down the many steps and +slip out of the prison gate. They walked a little way in silence. There +were plenty of people about, but no one seemed to notice them. + +'Which way shall we go?' Lucy asked. 'I wish we'd asked him where the +Charitables live.' + +'I think,' Philip began; but Lucy was not destined to know what he +thought. + +There was a sudden shout, a clattering of horses' hoofs, and all the +faces in the square turned their way. + +'They've seen us,' cried Philip. 'Run, run, run!' + +He himself ran, and he ran toward the gate-house that stood at the top +of the ladder stairs by which they had come up, and behind him came the +shouting and clatter of hot pursuit. The captain stood in the gateway +alone, and just as Philip reached the gate the captain turned into the +guard-room and pretended not to see anything. Philip had never run so +far or so fast. His breath came in deep sobs; but he reached the ladder +and began quickly to go down. It was easier than going up. + +[Illustration: And behind him the clatter of hot pursuit.] + +He was nearly at the bottom when the whole ladder bridge leapt wildly +into the air, and he fell from it and rolled in the thick grass of that +illimitable prairie. + +All about him the air was filled with great sounds, like the noise of +the earthquakes that destroy beautiful big palaces, and factories which +are big but not beautiful. It was deafening, it was endless, it was +unbearable. + +Yet he had to bear that, and more. And now he felt a curious swelling +sensation in his hands, then in his head--then all over. It was +extremely painful. He rolled over in his agony, and saw the foot of an +enormous giant quite close to him. The foot had a large, flat, ugly +shoe, and seemed to come out of grey, low-hanging, swaying curtains. +There was a gigantic column too, black against the grey. The ladder +bridge, cast down, lay on the ground not far from him. + +Pain and fear overcame Philip, and he ceased to hear or feel or know +anything. + +When he recovered consciousness he found himself under the table in the +drawing-room. The swelling feeling was over, and he did not seem to be +more than his proper size. + +He could see the flat feet of the nurse and the lower part of her grey +skirt, and a rattling and rumbling on the table above told him that she +was doing as she had said she would, and destroying his city. He saw +also a black column which was the leg of the table. Every now and then +the nurse walked away to put back into its proper place something he had +used in the building. And once she stood on a chair, and he heard the +tinkling of the lustre-drops as she hooked them into their places on the +chandelier. + +'If I lie very still,' said he, 'perhaps she won't see me. But I do +wonder how I got here. And what a dream to tell Helen about!' + +He lay very still. The nurse did not see him. And when she had gone to +her breakfast Philip crawled out. + +Yes, the city was gone. Not a trace of it. The very tables were back in +their proper places. + +Philip went back to his proper place, which, of course, was bed. + +'What a splendid dream,' he said, as he cuddled down between the sheets, +'and now it's all over!' + +Of course he was quite wrong. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +LOST + + +Philip went to sleep, and dreamed that he was at home again and that +Helen had come to his bedside to call him, leading a white pony that was +to be his very own. It was a pony that looked clever enough for +anything, and he was not surprised when it shook hands with him; but +when it said, 'Well, we must be moving,' and began to try to put on +Philip's shoes and stockings, Philip called out, 'Here, I say, stop +that,' and awoke to a room full of sunshine, but empty of ponies. + +'Oh, well,' said Philip, 'I suppose I'd better get up.' He looked at his +new silver watch, one of Helen's parting presents, and saw that it +marked ten o'clock. + +'I say, you know,' said he to the watch, 'you can't be right.' And he +shook it to encourage it to think over the matter. But the watch still +said 'ten' quite plainly and unmistakably. + +Now the Grange breakfast time was at eight. And Philip was certain he +had not been called. + +'This is jolly rum,' he remarked. 'It must be the watch. Perhaps it's +stopped.' + +But it hadn't stopped. Therefore it must be two hours past breakfast +time. The moment he had thought this he became extremely hungry. He got +out of bed as soon as he knew exactly how hungry he was. + +There was no one about, so he made his way to the bath-room and spent a +happy hour with the hot water and the cold water, and the brown Windsor +soap and the shaving soap and the nail brush and the flesh brush and the +loofahs and the shower bath and the three sponges. He had not, so far, +been able thoroughly to investigate and enjoy all these things. But now +there was no one to interfere, and he enjoyed himself to that degree +that he quite forgot to wonder why he hadn't been called. He thought of +a piece of poetry that Helen had made for him, about the bath; and when +he had done playing he lay on his back in water that was very hot +indeed, trying to remember the poetry. The water was very nearly cold by +the time he had remembered the poetry. It was called Dreams of a Giant +Life, and this was it. + + +DREAMS OF A GIANT LIFE + + What was I once--in ages long ago? + I look back, and I see myself. We grow + So changed through changing years, I hardly see + How that which I look back on could be me?[1] + + Glorious and splendid, giant-like I stood + On a white cliff, topped by a darkling wood. + Below me, placid, bright and sparkling, lay + The equal waters of a lovely bay. + White cliffs surrounded it--and calm and fair + It lay asleep, in warm and silent air. + + I stood alone--naked and strong, upright + My limbs gleamed in the clear pure golden light. + I saw below me all the water lie + Expecting something, and that thing was I.[2] + + I leaned, I plunged, the waves splashed over me. + I lay, a giant in a little sea. + + White cliffs all round, wood-crowned, and as I lay + I saw the glories of the dying day; + No wind disturbed my sea; the sunlight was + As though it came through windows of gold glass. + The white cliffs rose above me, and around + The clear sea lay, pure, perfect and profound; + And I was master of the cliffs, the sea, + And the gold light that brightened over me. + + Far miles away my giant feet showed plain, + Rising, like rocks out of the quiet main. + On them a lighthouse could be built, to show + Wayfaring ships the way they must not go. + + I was the master of that cliff-girt sea. + I splashed my hands, the waves went over me, + And in the dimples of my body lay + Little rock-pools, where small sea-beasts might play. + + I found a boat, its deck was perforate; + I launched it, and it dared the storms of fate. + Its woollen sail stood out against the sky, + Supported by a mast of ivory. + + Another boat rode proudly to my hand, + Upon its deck a thousand spears did stand; + I launched it, and it sped full fierce and fast + Against the boat that had the ivory mast + And woollen sail and perforated deck. + The two went down in one stupendous wreck! + + Beneath the waves I chased with joyous hand + Upon the bed of an imagined sand + The slippery brown sea mouse, that still escaped, + Where the deep cave beneath my knee was shaped. + Caught it at last and caged it into rest + Upon the shallows of my submerged breast. + + Then, as I lay, wrapped as in some kind arm + By the sweet world of waters soft and warm, + A great voice cried, from some far unseen shore, + And I was not a giant any more. + + 'Come out, come out,' cried out the voice of power, + 'You've been in for a quarter of an hour. + The water's cold--come, Master Pip--your head + 'S all wet, and it is time you were in bed.' + + I rose all dripping from the magic sea + And left the ships that had been slaves to me-- + The soap-dish, with its perforated deck, + The nail-brush, that had rushed to loss and wreck, + The flannel sail, the tooth-brush that was mast, + The sleek soap-mouse--I left them all at last. + + I went out of that magic sea and cried + Because the time came when I must be dried + And leave the splendour of a giant's joy + And go to bed--a little well-washed boy. + +FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Never mind grammar. + +[2] This is correct grammar, but never mind. + + +When he had quite remembered the poetry he had another shower-bath, and +then when he had enjoyed the hot rough towels out of the hot cupboard he +went back to his room to dress. He now felt how deeply he wanted his +breakfast, so he dressed himself with all possible speed, even +forgetting to fasten his bootlaces properly. He was in such a hurry that +he dropped his collar-stud, and it was as he stooped to pick it up that +he remembered his dream. Do you know that was really the first time he +had thought of it. The dream--that indeed would be something to think +about. + +Breakfast was the really important thing. He went down very hungry +indeed. 'I shall ask for my breakfast directly I get down,' he said. 'I +shall ask the first person I meet.' And he met no one. + +There was no one on the stairs, or in the hall, or in the dining-room, +or in the drawing-room. The library and billiard-room were empty of +living people, and the door of the nursery was locked. So then Philip +made his way into the regions beyond the baize door, where the servants' +quarters were. And there was no one in the kitchen, or in the servants' +hall, or in the butler's pantry, or in the scullery, or the washhouse, +or the larder. In all that big house, and it was much bigger than it +looked from the front because of the long wings that ran out on each +side of its back--in all that big house there was no one but Philip. He +felt certain of this before he ran upstairs and looked in all the +bedrooms and in the little picture gallery and the music-room, and then +in the servants' bedrooms and the very attics. There were interesting +things in those attics, but Philip only remembered that afterwards. Now +he tore down the stairs three at a time. All the room doors were open as +he had left them, and somehow those open doors frightened him more than +anything else. He ran along the corridors, down more stairs, past more +open doors and out through the back kitchen, along the moss-grown walk +by the brick wall and so round by the three yew trees and the mounting +block to the stable-yard. And there was no one there. Neither coachman +nor groom nor stable-boys. And there was no one in the stables, or the +coach-house, or the harness-room, or the loft. + +Philip felt that he could not go back into the house. Something terrible +must have happened. Was it possible that any one could want the Grange +servants enough to kidnap them? Philip thought of the nurse and felt +that, at least as far as she was concerned, it was _not_ possible. Or +perhaps it was magic! A sort of Sleeping-Beauty happening! Only every +one had vanished instead of just being put to sleep for a hundred years. + +He was alone in the middle of the stable-yard when the thought came to +him. + +'Perhaps they're only made invisible. Perhaps they're all here and +watching me and making fun of me.' + +He stood still to think this. It was not a pleasant thought. + +Suddenly he straightened his little back, and threw back his head. + +'They shan't see I'm frightened anyway,' he told himself. And then he +remembered the larder. + +'I haven't had any breakfast,' he explained aloud, so as to be plainly +heard by any invisible people who might be about. 'I ought to have my +breakfast. If nobody gives it to me I shall take my breakfast.' + +He waited for an answer. But none came. It was very quiet in the +stable-yard. Only the rattle of a halter ring against a manger, the +sound of a hoof on stable stones, the cooing of pigeons and the rustle +of straw in the loose-box broke the silence. + +'Very well,' said Philip. 'I don't know what _you_ think I ought to have +for breakfast, so I shall take what _I_ think.' + +He drew a long breath, trying to draw courage in with it, threw back his +shoulders more soldierly than ever, and marched in through the back door +and straight to the larder. Then he took what he thought he ought to +have for breakfast. This is what he thought: + + 1 cherry pie, + 2 custards in cups, + 1 cold sausage, + 2 pieces of cold toast, + 1 piece of cheese, + 2 lemon cheese-cakes, + 1 small jam tart (there was only one left), + Butter, 1 pat. + +'What jolly things the servants have to eat,' he said. 'I never knew. I +thought that nothing but mutton and rice grew here.' + +He put all the food on a silver tray and carried it out on to the +terrace, which lies between the two wings at the back of the house. Then +he went back for milk, but there was none to be seen so he got a white +jug full of water. The spoons he couldn't find, but he found a +carving-fork and a fish-slice. Did you ever try to eat cherry pie with a +fish-slice? + +'Whatever's happened,' said Philip to himself, through the cherry pie, +'and whatever happens it's as well to have had your breakfast.' And he +bit a generous inch off the cold sausage which he had speared with the +carving-fork. + +And now, sitting out in the good sunshine, and growing less and less +hungry as he plied fish-slice and carving-fork, his mind went back to +his dream, which began to seem more and more real. Suppose it really +_had_ happened? It might have; magic things did happen, it seemed. Look +how all the people had vanished out of the house--out of the world too, +perhaps. + +'Suppose every one's vanished,' said Philip. 'Suppose I'm the only +person left in the world who hasn't vanished. Then everything in the +world would belong to me. Then I could have everything that's in all the +toy shops.' And his mind for a moment dwelt fondly on this beautiful +idea. + +Then he went on. 'But suppose I vanished too? Perhaps if I were to +vanish I could see the other people who have. I wonder how it's done.' + +He held his breath and tried hard to vanish. Have you ever tried this? +It is not at all easy to do. Philip could not do it at all. He held his +breath and he tried and he tried, but he only felt fatter and fatter and +more and more as though in one more moment he should burst. So he let +his breath go. + +'No,' he said, looking at his hands; 'I'm not any more invisible than I +was before. Not so much I think,' he added thoughtfully, looking at what +was left of the cherry pie. 'But that dream----' + +He plunged deep in the remembrance of it that was, to him, like swimming +in the waters of a fairy lake. + +He was hooked out of his lake suddenly by voices. It was like waking up. +There, away across the green park beyond the sunk fence, were people +coming. + +'So every one hasn't vanished,' he said, caught up the tray and took it +in. He hid it under the pantry shelf. He didn't know who the people were +who were coming and you can't be too careful. Then he went out and made +himself small in the shadow of a red buttress, heard their voices coming +nearer and nearer. They were all talking at once, in that quick +interested way that makes you certain something unusual has happened. + +He could not hear exactly what they were saying, but he caught the +words: 'No.' + +'Of course I've asked.' + +'Police.' + +'Telegram.' + +'Yes, of course.' + +'Better make quite sure.' + +Then every one began speaking all at once, and you could not hear +anything that anybody said. Philip was too busy keeping behind the +buttress to see who they were who were talking. He was glad _something_ +had happened. + +'Now I shall have something to think about besides the nurse and my +beautiful city that she has pulled down.' + +But what was it that had happened? He hoped nobody was hurt--or had done +anything wrong. The word police had always made him uncomfortable ever +since he had seen a boy no bigger than himself pulled along the road by +a very large policeman. The boy had stolen a loaf, Philip was told. +Philip could never forget that boy's face; he always thought of it in +church when it said 'prisoners and captives,' and still more when it +said 'desolate and oppressed.' + +'I do hope it's not _that_,' he said. + +And slowly he got himself to leave the shelter of the red-brick buttress +and to follow to the house those voices and those footsteps that had +gone by him. + +He followed the sound of them to the kitchen. The cook was there in +tears and a Windsor arm-chair. The kitchenmaid, her cap all on one side, +was crying down most dirty cheeks. The coachman was there, very red in +the face, and the groom, without his gaiters. The nurse was there, neat +as ever she seemed at first, but Philip was delighted when a more +careful inspection showed him that there was mud on her large shoes and +on the bottom of her skirt, and that her dress had a large +three-cornered tear in it. + +'I wouldn't have had it happen for a twenty-pun note,' the coachman was +saying. + +'George,' said the nurse to the groom, 'you go and get a horse ready. +I'll write the telegram.' + +'You'd best take Peppermint,' said the coachman. 'She's the fastest.' + +The groom went out, saying under his breath, 'Teach your grandmother,' +which Philip thought rude and unmeaning. + +Philip was standing unnoticed by the door. He felt that thrill--if it +isn't pleasure it is more like it than anything else--which we all feel +when something real has happened. + +But what _had_ happened. What? + +'I wish I'd never come back,' said the nurse. 'Then nobody could pretend +it was _my_ fault.' + +'It don't matter what they pretend,' the cook stopped crying to say. +'The thing is what's happened. Oh, my goodness. I'd rather have been +turned away without a character than have had this happen.' + +'And I'd rather _any_thing,' said the nurse. 'Oh, my goodness me. I wish +I'd never been born.' + +And then and there, before the astonished eyes of Philip, she began to +behave as any nice person might--she began to cry. + +'It wouldn't have happened,' said the cook, 'if the master hadn't been +away. He's a Justice of the Peace, he is, and a terror to gipsies. It +wouldn't never have happened if----' + +Philip could not bear it any longer. + +'_What_ wouldn't have happened if?' he asked, startling everybody to a +quick jump of surprise. + +The nurse stopped crying and turned to look at him. + +'Oh, _you_!' she said slowly. 'I forgot _you_. You want your breakfast, +I suppose, no matter what's happened?' + +'No, I don't,' said Philip, with extreme truth. 'I want to know what +_has_ happened?' + +'Miss Lucy's lost,' said the cook heavily, 'that's what's happened. So +now you know. You run along and play, like a good little boy, and don't +make extry trouble for us in the trouble we're in.' + +'Lost?' repeated Philip. + +'Yes, lost. I expect you're glad,' said the nurse, 'the way you treated +her. You hold your tongue and don't let me so much as hear you breathe +the next twenty-four hours. I'll go and write that telegram.' + +Philip thought it best not to let any one hear him breathe. By this +means he heard the telegram when nurse read it aloud to the cook. + + 'Peter Graham, Esq., + Hotel Wagram, + Brussels. + + Miss Lucy lost. Please come home immediately. + + PHILKINS. + +That's all right, isn't it?' + +'I don't see why you sign it Philkins. You're only the nurse--I'm the +head of the house when the family's away, and my name's Bobson,' the +cook said. + +There was a sound of torn paper. + +'There--the paper's tore. I'd just as soon your name went to it,' said +the nurse. 'I don't want to be the one to tell such news.' + +'Oh, my good gracious, what a thing to happen,' sighed the cook. 'Poor +little darling!' + +Then somebody wrote the telegram again, and the nurse took it out to +the stable-yard, where Peppermint was already saddled. + +'I thought,' said Philip, bold in the nurse's absence, 'I thought Lucy +was with her aunt.' + +'She came back yesterday,' said the cook. 'Yes, after you'd gone to bed. +And this morning that nurse went into the night nursery and she wasn't +there. Her bed all empty and cold, and her clothes gone. Though how the +gipsies could have got in without waking that nurse is a mystery to me +and ever will be. She must sleep like a pig.' + +'Or the seven sleepers,' said the coachman. + +'But what would gipsies want her _for_?' Philip asked. + +'What do they ever want anybody for?' retorted the cook. 'Look at the +heirs that's been stolen. I don't suppose there's a titled family in +England but what's had its heir stolen, one time and another.' + +'I suppose you've looked all over the house,' said Philip. + +'I suppose we ain't deaf and dumb and blind and silly,' said the cook. +'Here's that nurse. You be off, Mr. Philip, without you want a flea in +your ear.' + +And Philip, at the word, _was_ off. He went into the long drawing-room, +and shut the door. Then he got the ivory chessmen out of the Buhl +cabinet, and set them out on that delightful chess-table whose chequers +are of mother-of-pearl and ivory, and tried to play a game, right hand +against left. But right hand, who was white, and so moved first, always +won. He gave up after awhile, and put the chessmen away in their proper +places. Then he got out the big book of photographs of pictures, but +they did not seem interesting, so he tried the ivory spellicans. But his +hand shook, and you know spellicans is a game you can't play when your +hand shakes. And all the time, behind the chess and the pictures and the +spellicans, he was trying not to think about his dream, about how he had +climbed that ladder stair, which was really the yard-stick, and gone +into the cities that he had built on the tables. Somehow he did not want +to remember it. The very idea of remembering made him feel guilty and +wretched. + +He went and looked out of the window, and as he stood there his wish not +to remember the dream made his boots restless, and in their shuffling +his right boot kicked against something hard that lay in the folds of +the blue brocade curtain. + +He looked down, stooped, and picked up little Mr. Noah. The nurse must +have dropt it there when she cleared away the city. + +And as he looked upon those wooden features it suddenly became +impossible not to think of the dream. He let the remembrance of it come, +and it came in a flood. And with it the remembrance of what he had done. +He had promised to be Lucy's noble friend, and they had run together to +escape from the galloping soldiers. And he had run faster than she. And +at the top of the ladder--the ladder of safety--_he had not waited for +her_. + +'Any old hero would have waited for her, and let her go first,' he told +himself. 'Any gentleman would--even any _man_--let alone a hero. And I +just bunked down the ladder and forgot her. I _left_ her there.' + +Remorse stirred his boots more ungently than before. + +'But it was only a dream,' he said. And then remorse said, as he had +felt all along that it would if he only gave it a chance: + +'But suppose it wasn't a dream--suppose it was real. Suppose you _did_ +leave her there, my noble friend, and that's why she's lost.' + +Suddenly Philip felt very small, very forlorn, very much alone in the +world. But Helen would come back. That telegram would bring her. + +Yes. And he would have to tell her that perhaps it was his fault. + +It was in vain that Philip told himself that Helen would never believe +about the city. He felt that she would. Why shouldn't she? She knew +about the fairy tales and the Arabian Nights. And she would know that +these things _did_ happen. + +'Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?' he said, quite loud. And there +was no one but himself to give the answer. + +'If I could only get back into the city,' he said. 'But that hateful +nurse has pulled it all down and locked up the nursery. So I can't even +build it again. Oh, what _shall_ I do?' + +And with that he began to cry. For now he felt quite sure that the dream +wasn't a dream--that he really _had_ got into the magic city, had +promised to stand by Lucy, and had been false to his promise and to her. + +He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles and also--rather painfully--with +Mr. Noah, whom he still held. 'What shall I do?' he sobbed. + +And a very very teeny tiny voice said: + +'~Put me down.~' + +'Eh?' said Philip. + +'~Put me down~,' said the voice again. It was such a teeny tiny voice +that he could only just hear it. It was unlikely, of course, that the +voice could have been Mr. Noah's; but then whose else could it be? On +the bare chance that it _might_ have been Mr. Noah who spoke--more +unlikely things had happened before, as you know--Philip set the little +wooden figure down on the chess-table. It stood there, wooden as ever. + +'Put _who_ down?' Philip asked. And then, before his eyes, the little +wooden figure grew alive, stooped to pick up the yellow disc of wood on +which Noah's Ark people stand, rolled it up like a mat, put it under his +arm and began to walk towards the side of the table where Philip stood. + +He knelt down to bring his ears nearer the little live moving thing. + +'_What_ did you say?' he asked, for he fancied that Mr. Noah had again +spoken. + +'~I said, what's the matter?~' said the little voice. + +'It's Lucy. She's lost and it's my fault. And I can only just hear you. +It hurts my ears hearing you,' complained Philip. + +'~There's an ear-trumpet in a box on the middle of the cabinet~,' he +could just hear the teeny tiny voice say; '~it belonged to a great-aunt. +Get it out and listen through it~.' + +Philip got it out. It was an odd curly thing, and at first he could not +be sure which end he ought to put to his ear. But he tried both ends, +and on the second trial he heard quite a loud, strong, big voice say: + +'That's better.' + +'Then it wasn't a dream last night,' said Philip. + +'Of course it wasn't,' said Mr. Noah. + +'Then where is Lucy?' + +'In the city, of course. Where you left her.' + +'But she _can't_ be,' said Philip desperately. 'The city's all pulled +down and gone for ever.' + +'The city you built in this room is pulled down,' said Mr. Noah, 'but +the city you went to wasn't in this room. Now I put it to you--how could +it be?' + +'But it _was_,' said Philip, 'or else how could I have got into it.' + +'It's a little difficult, I own,' said Mr. Noah. 'But, you see, you +built those cities in two worlds. It's pulled down in _this_ world. But +in the other world it's going on.' + +'I don't understand,' said Philip. + +'I thought you wouldn't,' said Mr. Noah; 'but it's true, for all that. +Everything people make in that world goes on for ever.' + +'But how was it that I got in?' + +'Because you belong to both worlds. And you built the cities. So they +were yours.' + +'But Lucy got in.' + +'She built up a corner of your city that the nurse had knocked down.' + +[Illustration: He heard quite a loud, strong, big voice say, 'That's +better.'] + +'But _you_,' said Philip, more and more bewildered. 'You're here. So you +can't be there.' + +'But I _am_ there,' said Mr. Noah. + +'But you're here. And you're alive here. What made you come alive?' + +'Your tears,' said Mr. Noah. 'Tears are very strong magic. No, don't +begin to cry again. What's the matter?' + +'I want to get back into the city.' + +'It's dangerous.' + +'I don't care.' + +'You were glad enough to get away,' said Mr. Noah. + +'I know: that's the worst of it,' said Philip. 'Oh, isn't there any way +to get back? If I climbed in at the nursery windows and got the bricks +and built it all up and----' + +'Quite unnecessary, I assure you. There are a thousand doors to that +city.' + +'I wish I could find _one_,' said Philip; 'but, I say, I thought time +was all different there. How is it Lucy is lost all this time if time +doesn't count?' + +'It does count, now,' said Mr. Noah; 'you made it count when you ran +away and left Lucy. That set the clocks of the city to the time of this +world.' + +'I don't understand,' said Philip; 'but it doesn't matter. Show me the +door and I'll go back and find Lucy.' + +'Build something and go through it,' said Mr. Noah. 'That's all. Your +tears are dry on me now. Good-bye.' And he laid down his yellow mat, +stepped on to it and was just a little wooden figure again. + +Philip dropped the ear-trumpet and looked at Mr. Noah. + +'I _don't_ understand,' he said. But this at least he understood. That +Helen would come back when she got that telegram, and that before she +came he must go into the other world and find the lost Lucy. + +'But oh,' he said, 'suppose I _don't_ find her. I wish I hadn't built +those cities so big! And time will go on. And, perhaps, when Helen comes +back she'll find _me_ lost _too_--as well as Lucy.' + +But he dried his eyes and told himself that this was not how heroes +behaved. He must build again. Whichever way you looked at it there was +no time to be lost. And besides the nurse might occur at any moment. + +He looked round for building materials. There was the chess-table. It +had long narrow legs set round it, rather like arches. Something might +be done with it, with books and candlesticks and Japanese vases. + +Something _was_ done. Philip built with earnest care, but also with +considerable speed. If the nurse should come in before he had made a +door and got through it--come in and find him building again--she was +quite capable of putting him to bed, where, of course, building is +impossible. In a very little time there was a building. But how to get +in. He was, alas, the wrong size. He stood helpless, and once more tears +pricked and swelled behind his eyelids. One tear fell on his hand. + +'Tears are a strong magic,' Mr. Noah had said. And at the thought the +tears stopped. Still there _was_ a tear, the one on his hand. He rubbed +it on the pillar of the porch. + +And instantly a queer tight thin feeling swept through him. He felt +giddy and shut his eyes. His boots, ever sympathetic, shuffled on the +carpet. Or was it the carpet? It was very thick and---- He opened his +eyes. His feet were once more on the long grass of the illimitable +prairie. And in front of him towered the gigantic porch of a vast +building and a domino path leading up to it. + +'Oh, I am so glad,' cried Philip among the grass. 'I couldn't have borne +it if she'd been lost for ever, and all my fault.' + +The gigantic porch lowered frowningly above him. What would he find on +the other side of it? + +[Illustration: The gigantic porch lowered frowningly above him.] + +'I don't care. I've simply got to go,' he said, and stepped out bravely. +'If I can't _be_ a hero I'll try to behave like one.' + +And with that he stepped out, stumbling a little in the thick grass, and +the dark shadow of the porch received him. + + . . . . . . . + +'Bother the child,' said the nurse, coming into the drawing-room a +little later; 'if he hasn't been at his precious building game again! I +shall have to give him a lesson over this--I can see that. And I will +too--a lesson he won't forget in a hurry.' + +She went through the house, looking for the too bold builder that she +might give him that lesson. Then she went through the garden, still on +the same errand. + +Half an hour later she burst into the servants' hall and threw herself +into a chair. + +'I don't care what happens now,' she said. 'The house is bewitched, I +think. I shall go the very minute I've had my dinner.' + +'What's up now?' the cook came to the door to say. + +'Up?' said the nurse. 'Oh, nothing's _up_. What should there be? +Everything's all right and beautiful, and just as it should be, of +course.' + +'Miss Lucy's not found yet, of course, but that's all, isn't it?' + +'All? And enough too, I should have thought,' said the nurse. 'But as it +happens it's _not_ all. The boy's lost now. Oh, I'm not joking. He's +lost I tell you, the same as the other one--and I'm off out of this by +the two thirty-seven train, and I don't care who knows it.' + +'Lor!' said the cook. + + . . . . . . . + +Before starting for the two thirty-seven train the nurse went back to +the drawing-room to destroy Philip's new building, to restore to their +proper places its books, candlesticks, vases, and chessmen. + +There we will leave her. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE DRAGON-SLAYER + + +When Philip walked up the domino path and under the vast arch into the +darkness beyond, his heart felt strong with high resolve. His legs, +however, felt weak; strangely weak, especially about the knees. The +doorway was so enormous, that which lay beyond was so dark, and he +himself so very very small. As he passed under the little gateway which +he had built of three dominoes with the little silver knight in armour +on the top, he noticed that he was only as high as a domino, and you +know how very little that is. + +Philip went along the domino path. He had to walk carefully, for to him +the spots on the dominoes were quite deep hollows. But as they were +black they were easy to see. He had made three arches, one beyond +another, of two pairs of silver candlesticks with silver inkstands on +the top of them. The third pair of silver candlesticks had a book on +the top of them because there were no more inkstands. And when he had +passed through the three silver arches, he stopped. + +Beyond lay a sort of velvety darkness with white gleams in it. And as +his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he saw that he was in a +great hall of silver pillars, gigantic silver candlesticks they seemed +to be, and they went in long vistas this way and that way and every way, +like the hop-poles in a hop-field, so that whichever way you turned, a +long pillared corridor lay in front of you. + +Philip had no idea which way he ought to go. It seemed most unlikely +that he would find Lucy in a dark hall with silver pillars. + +'All the same,' he said, 'it's not so dark as it was, by long chalks.' + +It was not. The silver pillars had begun to give out a faint soft glow +like the silver phosphorescence that lies in sea pools in summer time. + +'It's lucky too,' he said, 'because of the holes in the floor.' + +The holes were the spots on the dominoes with which the pillared hall +was paved. + +'I wonder what part of the city where Lucy is I shall come out at?' +Philip asked himself. But he need not have troubled. He did not come +out at all. He walked on and on and on and on and on. He thought he was +walking straight, but really he was turning first this way and then +that, and then the other way among the avenues of silver pillars which +all looked just alike. + +He was getting very tired, and he had been walking a long time, before +he came to anything that was not silver pillars and velvet black under +invisible roofs, and floor paved with dominoes laid very close together. + +'Oh, I am glad!' he said at last, when he saw the pavement narrow to a +single line of dominoes just like the path he had come in by. There was +an arch too, like the arch by which he had come in. And then he +perceived in a shock of miserable surprise that it was, in fact, the +same arch and the same domino path. He had come back, after all that +walking, to the point from which he had started. It was most mortifying. +So silly! Philip sat down on the edge of the domino path to rest and +think. + +'Suppose I just walk out and don't believe in magic any more?' he said +to himself. 'Helen says magic can only happen to people who believe in +magic. So if I just walked out and didn't believe as hard as ever I +could, I should be my own right size again, and Lucy would be back, and +there wouldn't _be_ any magic.' + +[Illustration: He walked on and on and on.] + +'Yes, but,' said that voice that always would come and join in whenever +Philip was talking to himself, 'suppose Lucy _does_ believe it? Then +it'll all go on for her, whatever _you_ believe, and she _won't_ be +back. Besides, you know you've _got_ to believe it, because it's true.' + +'Oh, bother!' said Philip; 'I'm tired. I don't want to go on.' + +'You shouldn't have deserted Lucy,' said the tiresome voice, 'then you +wouldn't have had to go back to look for her.' + +'But I can't find my way. How can I find my way?' + +'You know well enough. Fix your eyes on a far-off pillar and walk +straight to it, and when you're nearly there fix your eyes a little +farther. You're bound to come out somewhere.' + +'But I'm tired and it's so lonely,' said Philip. + +'Lucy's lonely too,' said the voice. + +'Drop it!' said Philip. And he got up and began to walk again. Also he +took the advice of that worrying voice and fixed his eyes on a distant +pillar. + +'But why should I bother?' he said; 'this is a sort of dream.' + +'Even if it _were_ a dream,' said the voice, 'there are adventures in +it. So you may as well be adventurous.' + +'Oh, all right,' said Philip, and on he went. + +And by walking very carefully and fixing his eyes a long way off, he did +at last come right through the hall of silver pillars, and saw beyond +the faint glow of the pillars the blue light of day. It shone very +brightly through a very little door, and when Philip came to that door +he went through it without hesitation. And there he was in a big field. +It was rather like the illimitable prairie, only there were great +patches of different-coloured flowers. Also there was a path across it, +and he followed the path. + +'Because,' he said, 'I'm more likely to meet Lucy. Girls always keep to +paths. They never explore.' + +Which just shows how little he knew about girls. + +He looked back after a while, to see what the hall of pillars looked +like from outside, but it was already dim in the mists of distance. + +But ahead of him he saw a great rough building, rather like Stonehenge. + +'I wish I'd come into the other city where the people are, and the +soldiers, and the greyhounds, and the cocoa-nuts,' he told himself. +'There's nobody here at all, not even Lucy.' + +The loneliness of the place grew more and more unpleasing to Philip. +But he went on. It seemed more reasonable than to go back. + +'I ought to be very hungry,' he said; 'I must have been walking for +hours.' But he wasn't hungry. It may have been the magic, or it may have +been the odd breakfast he had had. I don't know. He spoke aloud because +it was so quiet in that strange open country with no one in it but +himself. And no sound but the clump, clump of his boots on the path. And +it seemed to him that everything grew quieter and quieter till he could +almost hear himself think. Loneliness, real loneliness is a dreadful +thing. I hope you will never feel it. Philip looked to right and left, +and before him, and on all the wide plain nothing moved. There were the +grass and flowers, but no wind stirred them. And there was no sign that +any living person had ever trodden that path--except that there _was_ a +path to tread, and that the path led to the Stonehenge building, and +even that seemed to be only a ruin. + +'I'll go as far as that anyhow,' said Philip; 'perhaps there'll be a +signboard there or something.' + +There was something. Something most unexpected. Philip reached the +building; it was really very like Stonehenge, only the pillars were +taller and closer together and there was one high solid towering wall; +turned the corner of a massive upright and ran almost into the arms, and +quite on to the feet of a man in a white apron and a square paper cap, +who sat on a fallen column, eating bread and cheese with a clasp-knife. + +'I beg your pardon!' Philip gasped. + +'Granted, I'm sure,' said the man; 'but it's a dangerous thing to do, +Master Philip, running sheer on to chaps' clasp-knives.' + +He set Philip on his feet, and waved the knife, which had been so often +sharpened that the blade was half worn away. + +'Set you down and get your breath,' he said kindly. + +'Why, it's _you_!' said Philip. + +'Course it is. Who should I be if I wasn't me? That's poetry.' + +'But how did you get here?' + +'Ah!' said the man going on with his bread and cheese, while he talked +quite in the friendliest way, 'that's telling.' + +'Well, tell then,' said Philip impatiently. But he sat down. + +'Well, you say it's me. Who be it? Give it a name.' + +'You're old Perrin,' said Pip; 'I mean, of course, I beg your pardon, +you're Mr. Perrin, the carpenter.' + +'And what does carpenters do?' + +'Carp, I suppose,' said Philip. 'That means they make things, doesn't +it?' + +'That's it,' said the man encouragingly; 'what sort of things now might +old Perrin have made for you?' + +'You made my wheelbarrow, I know,' said Philip, 'and my bricks.' + +'Ah!' said Mr. Perrin, 'now you've got it. I made your bricks, seasoned +oak, and true to the thousandth of an inch, they was. And that's how I +got here. So now you know.' + +'But what are you doing here?' said Philip, wriggling restlessly on the +fallen column. + +'Waiting for you. Them as knows sent me out to meet you, and give you a +hint of what's expected of you.' + +'Well. What _is_?' said Philip. 'I mean I think it's very kind of you. +What _is_ expected?' + +'Plenty of time,' said the carpenter, 'plenty. Nothing ain't expected of +you till towards sundown.' + +'I do think it was most awfully kind of you,' said Philip, who had now +thought this over. + +'You was kind to old Perrin once,' said that person. + +'Was I?' said Philip, much surprised. + +'Yes; when my little girl was ailing you brought her a lot of pears off +your own tree. Not one of 'em you didn't 'ave yourself that year, Miss +Helen told me. And you brought back our kitten--the sandy and white one +with black spots--when it strayed. So I was quite willing to come and +meet you when so told. And knowing something of young gentlemen's +peckers, owing to being in business once next door to a boys' school, I +made so bold as to bring you a snack.' + +He reached a hand down behind the fallen pillar on which they sat and +brought up a basket. + +'Here,' he said. And Philip, raising the lid, was delighted to find that +he was hungry. It was a pleasant basketful. Meat pasties, red hairy +gooseberries, a stone bottle of ginger-beer, a blue mug with Philip on +it in gold letters, a slice of soda cake and two farthing sugar-sticks. + +'I'm sure I've seen that basket before,' said the boy as he ate. + +'Like enough. It's the one you brought them pears down in.' + +'Now look here,' said Philip, through his seventh bite of pasty, 'you +_must_ tell me how you got here. And tell me where you've got to. You've +simply no idea how muddling it all is to me. Do tell me _everything_. +Where are we, I mean, and why? And what I've got to do. And why? And +when? Tell me every single thing.' And he took the eighth bite. + +'You really don't know, sir?' + +'No,' said Philip, contemplating the ninth or last bite but one. It was +a large pasty. + +'Well then. Here goes. But I was always a poor speaker, and so +considered even by friends at cricket dinners and what not.' + +'But I don't want you to speak,' said Philip; 'just tell me.' + +'Well, then. How did I get here? I got here through having made them +bricks what you built this tumble-down old ancient place with.' + +'_I_ built?' + +'Yes, with them bricks I made you. I understand as this was the first +building you ever put up. That's why it's first on the road to where you +want to get to!' + +Philip looked round at the Stonehenge building and saw that it was +indeed built of enormous oak bricks. + +'Of course,' he said, 'only I've grown smaller.' + +'Or they've grown bigger,' said Mr. Perrin; 'it's the same thing. You +see it's like this. All the cities and things you ever built is in this +country. I don't know how it's managed, no more'n what you do. But so it +is. And as you made 'em, you've the right to come to them--if you can +get there. And you have got there. It isn't every one has the luck, I'm +told. Well, then, you made the cities, but you made 'em out of what +other folks had made, things like bricks and chessmen and books and +candlesticks and dominoes and brass basins and every sort of kind of +thing. An' all the people who helped to make all them things you used to +build with, they're all here too. D'you see? _Making's_ the thing. If it +was no more than the lad that turned the handle of the grindstone to +sharp the knife that carved a bit of a cabinet or what not, or a child +that picked a teazle to finish a bit of the cloth that's glued on to the +bottom of a chessman--they're all here. They're what's called the +population of your cities.' + +'I see. They've got small, like I have,' said Philip. + +'Or the cities has got big,' said the carpenter; 'it comes to the same +thing. I wish you wouldn't interrupt, Master Philip. You put me out.' + +'I won't again,' said Philip. 'Only do tell me just one thing. How can +you be here and at Amblehurst too?' + +'We come here,' said the carpenter slowly, 'when we're asleep.' + +'Oh!' said Philip, deeply disappointed; 'it's just a dream then?' + +'Not it. We come here when we're too sound asleep to dream. You go +through the dreams and come out on the other side where everything's +real. That's _here_.' + +'Go on,' said Philip. + +'I dunno where I was. You do put me out so.' + +'Pop you something or other,' said Philip. + +'Population. Yes. Well, all those people as made the things you made the +cities of, they live in the cities and they've made the insides to the +houses.' + +'What do they do?' + +'Oh, they just live here. And they buy and sell and plant gardens and +work and play like everybody does in other cities. And when they go to +sleep they go slap through their dreams and into the other world, and +work and play there, see? That's how it goes on. There's a lot more, but +that's enough for one time. You get on with your gooseberries.' + +'But they aren't all real people, are they? There's Mr. Noah?' + +'Ah, those is aristocracy, the ones you put in when you built the +cities. They're our old families. Very much respected. They're all very +high up in the world. Came over with the Conker, as the saying is. +There's the Noah family. They're the oldest of all, of course. And the +dolls you've put in different times and the tin soldiers, and of course +all the Noah's ark animals is alive except when you used them for +building, and then they're statues.' + +'But I don't see,' said Philip, 'I really don't see how all these cities +that I built at different times can still be here, all together and all +going on at once, when I know they've all been pulled down.' + +'Well, I'm no scholard. But I did hear Mr. Noah say once in a +lecture--_he's_ a speaker, if you like--I heard him say it was like when +you take a person's photo. The person is so many inches thick through +and so many feet high and he's round and he's solid. But in the photo +he's _flat_. Because everything's flat in photos. But all the same it's +him right enough. You get him into the photo. Then all you've got to do +is to get 'im out again into where everything's thick and tall and round +and solid. And it's quite easy, I believe, once you know the trick.' + +'Stop,' said Philip suddenly. 'I think my head's going to burst.' + +'Ah!' said the carpenter kindly. 'I felt like that at first. Lie down +and try to sleep it off a bit. Eddication does go to your head something +crool. I've often noticed it.' + +And indeed Philip was quite glad to lie down among the long grass and be +covered up with the carpenter's coat. He fell asleep at once. + +An hour later he woke again, looked at the wrinkled-apple face of Mr. +Perrin and began to remember. + +'I'm glad _you're_ here anyhow,' he said to the carpenter; 'it was +horribly lonely. You don't know.' + +'That's why I was sent to meet you,' said Mr. Perrin simply. + +'But how did you know?' + +'Mr. Noah sent for me early this morning. Bless you, he knows all about +everything. Says he, "You go and meet 'im and tell 'im all you can. If +he wants to be a Deliverer, let 'im," says Mr. Noah.' + +'But how do you begin being a Deliverer?' Philip asked, sitting up and +feeling suddenly very grand and manly, and very glad that Lucy was not +there to interfere. + +'There's lots of different ways,' said Mr. Perrin. 'Your particular +way's simple. You just got to kill the dragon.' + +'A _live_ dragon?' + +'Live!' said Mr. Perrin. 'Why he's all over the place and as green as +grass he is. Lively as a kitten. He's got a broken spear sticking out of +his side, so some one must have had a try at baggin' him, some time or +another.' + +'Don't you think,' said Philip, a little overcome by this vivid picture, +'that perhaps I'd better look for Lucy first, and be a Deliverer +afterwards?' + +'If you're _afraid_,' said Mr. Perrin. + +'I'm not,' said Philip doubtfully. + +'You see,' said the carpenter, 'what you've got to consider is: are you +going to be the hero of this 'ere adventure or ain't you? You can't 'ave +it both ways. An' if you are, you may's well make up your mind, cause +killing a dragon ain't the end of it, not by no means.' + +'Do you mean there are more dragons?' + +'Not dragons,' said the carpenter soothingly; 'not dragons exactly. But +there. I don't want to lower your heart. If you kills the dragon, then +afterwards there's six more hard things you've got to do. And then they +make you king. Take it or leave it. Only, if you take it we'd best be +starting. And anyhow we may as well get a move on us, because at sundown +the dragon comes out to drink and exercise of himself. You can hear him +rattling all night among these 'ere ruins; miles off you can 'ear 'im +of a still night.' + +'Suppose I don't want to be a Deliverer,' said Philip slowly. + +'Then you'll be a Destroyer,' said the carpenter; 'there's only these +two situations vacant here at present. Come, Master Philip, sir, don't +talk as if you wasn't going to be a man and do your duty for England, +Home and Beauty, like it says in the song. Let's be starting, shall us?' + +'You think I ought to be the Deliverer?' + +'Ought stands for nothing,' said Mr. Perrin. 'I think you're a going to +_be_ the Deliverer; that's what I think. Come on!' + +As they rose to go, Philip had a brief fleeting vision of a very smart +lady in a motor veil, disappearing round the corner of a pillar. + +'Are there many motors about here?' he asked, not wishing to talk any +more about dragons just then. + +'Not a single one,' said Mr. Perrin unexpectedly. 'Nor yet phonographs, +nor railways, nor factory chimneys, nor none of them loud ugly things. +Nor yet advertisements, nor newspapers, nor barbed wire.' + +After that the two walked silently away from the ruin. Philip was trying +to feel as brave and confident as a Deliverer should. He reminded +himself of St. George. And he remembered that the hero _never_ fails to +kill the dragon. But he still felt a little uneasy. It takes some time +to accustom yourself to being a hero. But he could not help looking over +his shoulder every now and then to see if the dragon was coming. So far +it wasn't. + +'Well,' said Mr. Perrin as they drew near a square tower with a long +flight of steps leading up to it, 'what do you say?' + +'I wasn't saying anything,' said Philip. + +'I mean are you going to be the Deliverer?' + +Then something in Philip's heart seemed to swell, and a choking feeling +came into his throat, and he felt more frightened than he had ever felt +before, as he said, looking as brave as he could: + +'Yes. I am.' + +Perrin clapped his hands. + +And instantly from the doors of the tower and from behind it came dozens +of people, and down the long steps, alone, came Mr. Noah, moving with +careful dignity and carrying his yellow mat neatly rolled under his arm. +All the people clapped their hands, till Mr. Noah, standing on the third +step, raised his hands to command silence. + +'Friends,' he said, 'and fellow-citizens of Polistopolis, you see before +you one who says that he is the Deliverer. He was yesterday arrested +and tried as a trespasser, and condemned to imprisonment. He escaped and +you all assumed that he was the Destroyer in disguise. But now he has +returned and of his own free will he chooses to attempt the +accomplishment of the seven great deeds. And the first of these is the +killing of the great green dragon.' + +The people, who were a mixed crowd of all nations, cheered loudly. + +'So now,' said Mr. Noah, 'we will make him our knight.' + +'Kneel,' said Mr. Noah, 'in token of fealty to the Kingdom of Cities.' + +Philip knelt. + +'You shall now speak after me,' said Mr. Noah solemnly. 'Say what I +say,' he whispered, and Philip said it. + +This was it. 'I, Philip, claim to be the Deliverer of this great nation, +and I pledge myself to carry out the seven great deeds that shall prove +my claim to the Deliverership and the throne. I pledge my honour to be +the champion of this city, and the enemy of its Destroyer.' + +When Philip had said this, Mr. Noah drew forth a bright silver-hilted +sword and held it over him. + +'You must be knighted,' he said; 'those among my audience who have read +any history will be aware that no mere commoner can expect to conquer a +dragon. We must give our would-be Deliverer every chance. So I will make +him a knight.' He tapped Philip lightly on the shoulder and said, 'Rise +up, Sir Philip!' + +This was really grand, and Philip felt new courage as Mr. Noah handed +him the silver sword, and all the people cheered. + +But as the cheers died down, a thin and disagreeable voice suddenly +said: + +'But _I_ claim to be the Deliverer too.' + +It was like a thunderbolt. Every one stopped cheering and stood with +mouth open and head turned towards the person who had spoken. And the +person who had spoken was the smartly dressed lady in the motor veil, +whom Philip had seen among the ruins. + +'A trespasser! a trespasser!' cried the crowd; 'to prison with it!' and +angry, threatening voices began to arise. + +'I'm no more a trespasser than he is,' said the voice, 'and if I say I +am the Deliverer, you can't stop me. I can kill dragons or do anything +_he_ can do.' + +'Silence, trespasser,' said Mr. Noah, with cold dignity. 'You should +have spoken earlier. At present Sir Philip occupies the position of +candidate to the post of King-Deliverer. There is no other position open +to you except that of Destroyer.' + +[Illustration: 'Silence, trespasser,' said Mr. Noah, with cold dignity.] + +'But suppose the boy doesn't do it?' said the voice behind the veil. + +'True,' said Mr. Noah. 'You may if you choose, occupy for the present +the position of Pretender-in-Chief to the Claimancy of the +Deliverership, an office now and here created expressly for you. The +position of Claimant to the Destroyership is also,' he added +reflectively, 'open to you.' + +'Then if he doesn't do it,' said the veiled lady, 'I can be the +Deliverer.' + +'You can try,' said Mr. Noah. 'There are a special set of tasks to be +performed if the claimant to the Deliverership be a woman.' + +'What are they?' said the veiled lady. + +'If Sir Philip fails you will be duly instructed in the deeds required +of a Deliverer who is a woman. And now, my friends, let us retire and +leave Sir Philip to deal with the dragon. We shall watch anxiously from +yonder ramparts,' he added encouragingly. + +'But isn't any one to help me?' said Philip, deeply uneasy. + +'It is not usual,' said Mr. Noah, 'for champions to require assistance +with dragons.' + +'I should think not indeed,' said the veiled lady; 'but you're not going +the usual way about it at all. Where's the princess, I should like to +know?' + +'There isn't any princess,' said Mr. Noah. + +'Then it won't be a proper dragon-killing,' she said, with an angry +shaking of skirts; 'that's all I can say.' + +'I wish it _was_ all,' said Mr. Noah to himself. + +'If there isn't a princess it isn't fair,' said the veiled one; 'and I +shall consider it's my turn to be Deliverer.' + +'Be silent, woman,' said Mr. Noah. + +'Woman, indeed,' said the lady. 'I ought to have a proper title.' + +'Your title is the Pretender to the----' + +'I know,' she interrupted; 'but you forget you're speaking to a lady. +You can call me the Pretenderette.' + +Mr. Noah turned coldly from her and pressed two Roman candles and a box +of matches into Philip's hand. + +'When you have arranged your plans and are quite sure that you will be +able to kill the dragon, light one of these. We will then have a +princess in readiness, and on observing your signal will tie her to a +tree, or, since this is a district where trees are rare and buildings +frequent, to a pillar. She will be perfectly safe if you make your plans +correctly. And in any case you must not attempt to deal with the dragon +without first lighting the Roman candle.' + +'And the dragon will see it and go away.' + +'Exactly,' said Mr. Noah. 'Or perhaps he will see it and not go away. +Time alone will show. The task that is without difficulties can never +really appeal to a hero. You will find weapons, cords, nets, shields and +various first aids to the young dragon-catcher in the vaults below this +tower. Good evening, Sir Philip,' he ended warmly. 'We wish you every +success.' + +And with that the whole crowd began to go away. + +'_I_ know who you ought to have for princess,' the Pretenderette said as +they went. And Mr. Noah said: + +'Silence in court.' + +'This isn't a court,' said the Pretenderette aggravatingly. + +'Wherever justice is, is a court,' said Mr. Noah, 'and I accuse you of +contempt of it. Guards, arrest this person and take her to prison at +once.' + +There was a scuffling and a shrieking and then the voices withdrew +gradually, the angry voice of even the Pretenderette growing fainter +and fainter till it died away altogether. + +Philip was left alone. + +His first act was to go up to the top of the tower and look out to see +if he could see the dragon. He looked east and north and south and west, +and he saw the ramparts of the fort where Mr. Noah and the others were +now safely bestowed. He saw also other towers and cities in the +distance, and he saw the ruins where he had met Mr. Perrin. + +And among those ruins something was moving. Something long and jointed +and green. It could be nothing but the dragon. + +'Oh, Crikey!' said Philip to himself; 'whatever shall I do? Perhaps I'd +better see what weapons there are.' + +So he ran down the stairs and down and down till he came to the vaults +of the castle, and there he found everything a dragon-killer could +possibly need, even to a little red book called the _Young +Dragon-Catcher's Vade Mecum, or a Complete Guide to the Good Sport of +Dragon-Slaying_; and a pair of excellent field-glasses. + +The top of the tower seemed the safest place. It was there that he tried +to read the book. The words were very long and most difficultly spelt. +But he did manage to make out that all dragons sleep for one hour after +sunset. Then he heard a loud rattling sound from the ruin, and he knew +it was the dragon who was making that sound, so he looked through the +field-glasses, frowning with anxiety to see what the dragon was doing. + +And as he looked he started and almost dropped the glasses, and the +frown cleared away from his forehead and he gave a sigh that was almost +a sob and almost a laugh, and then he said + +'That old thing!' + +Then he looked again, and this is what he saw. An enormous green dragon, +very long and fierce-looking, that rattled as it moved, going in and out +among the ruins, rubbing itself against the fallen pillars. And the +reason Philip laughed and sighed was that he knew that dragon very well +indeed. He had known it long ago. It was the clockwork lizard that had +been given him the Christmas before last. And he remembered that he had +put it into one of the cities he and Helen had built together. Only now, +of course, it had grown big and had come alive like all the other images +of live things he had put in his cities. But he saw that it was still a +clockwork creature. And its key was sticking out of its side. And it was +rubbing itself against the pillars so as to turn the key and wind itself +up. But this was a slow business and the winding was not half done when +the sun set. The dragon instantly lay down and went to sleep. + +'Well,' said Philip, 'now I've got to think.' + +He did think, harder than he had ever done before. And when he had +finished thinking he went down into the vault and got a long rope. Then +he stood still a moment, wondering if he really were brave enough. And +then he remembered 'Rise up, Sir Philip,' and he knew that a knight +simply _mustn't_ be afraid. + +So he went out in the dusk towards the dragon. + +He knew it would sleep for an hour. But all the same---- And the +twilight was growing deeper and deeper. Still there was plenty of light +to find the ruin, and also to find the dragon. There it lay--about ten +or twelve yards of solid dark dragon-flesh. Its metal claws gleamed in +the last of the daylight. Its great mouth was open, and its breathing, +as it slept, was like the sound of the sea on a rough night. + +'Rise up, Sir Philip,' he said to himself, and walked along close to the +dragon till he came to the middle part where the key was sticking +out--which Mr. Perrin had thought was a piece of an old spear with which +some one had once tried to kill the monster. + +Philip fastened one end of his rope very securely to the key--how +thankful he was that Helen had taught him to tie knots that were not +granny-knots. The dragon lay quite still, and went on breathing like a +stormy sea. Then the dragon-slayer fastened the other end of the rope to +the main wall of the ruin which was very strong and firm, and then he +went back to his tower as fast as he could and struck a match and +lighted his Roman candle. + +You see the idea? It was really rather a clever one. When the dragon +woke it would find that it was held prisoner by the ropes. It would be +furious and try to get free. And in its struggles it would be certain to +get free, but this it could only do by detaching itself from its key. +When once the key was out the dragon would be unable to wind itself up +any more, and would be as good as dead. Of course Sir Philip could cut +off its head with the silver-hilted sword if Mr. Noah really wished it. + +It was, as you see, an excellent plan, as far as it went. Philip sat on +the top of his tower quite free from anxiety, and ate a few hairy red +gooseberries that happened to be loose in his pocket. Within three +minutes of his lighting his Roman candle a shower of golden rain went up +in the south, some immense Catherine-wheels appeared in the east, and in +the north a long line of rockets presented almost the appearance of an +aurora borealis. Red fire, green fire, then rockets again. The whole of +the plain was lit by more fireworks than Philip had ever seen, even at +the Crystal Palace. By their light he saw a procession come out of the +fort, cross to a pillar that stood solitary on the plain, and tie to it +a white figure. + +'The Princess, I suppose,' said Philip; 'well, _she's_ all right +anyway.' + +Then the procession went back to the fort, and then the dragon awoke. +Philip could see the great creature stretching itself and shaking its +vast head as a dog does when it comes out of the water. + +'I expect it doesn't like the fireworks,' said Philip. And he was quite +right. + +And now the dragon saw the Princess who had been placed at a convenient +spot about half-way between the ruins and Philip's tower. + +It threw up its snout and uttered a devastating howl, and Philip felt +with a thrill of horror that, clockwork or no clockwork, the brute was +alive, and desperately dangerous. + +And now it had perceived that it was bound. With great heavings and +throes, with snortings and bellowings, with scratchings and tearings of +its great claws and lashings of its terrible tail, it writhed and +fought to be free, and the light of thousands of fireworks illuminated +the gigantic struggle. + +Then what Philip had known would happen, did happen. The great wall held +fast, the rope held fast, the dragon held fast. It was the key that gave +way. With an echoing grinding rusty sound like a goods train shunting on +a siding, the key was drawn from the keyhole in the dragon's side and +left still fast to its rope like an anchor to a cable. + +_Left._ For now that happened which Philip had not foreseen. He had +forgotten that before it fell asleep the dragon had partly wound itself +up. And its struggles had not used up all the winding. There was go in +the dragon yet. And with a yell of fury it set off across the plain, +wriggling its green rattling length towards--the Princess. + +And now there was no time to think whether one was afraid or not. Philip +went down those tower stairs more quickly than he had ever gone down +stairs in his life, and he was not bad at stairs even at ordinary times. + +He put his sword over his shoulder as you do a gun, and ran. Like the +dragon he made straight for the Princess. And now it was a race between +him and the dragon. Philip ran and ran. His heart thumped, his feet had +that leaden feeling that comes in nightmares. He felt as if he were +dying. + +Keep on, keep on, faster, faster, you mustn't stop. Ah! that's better. +He has got his second wind. He is going faster. And the dragon, or is it +fancy? is going not quite so fast. + +How he did it Philip never knew. But with a last spurt he reached the +pillar where the Princess stood bound. And the dragon was twenty yards +away, coming on and on and on. + +Philip stood quite still, recovering his breath. And more and more +slowly, but with no sign of stopping, the dragon came on. Behind him, +where the pillar was, Philip heard some one crying softly. + +Then the dragon was quite near. Philip took three steps forward, took +aim with his sword, shut his eyes and hit as hard as he could. Then +something hard and heavy knocked him over, and for a time he knew no +more. + + . . . . . . . + +When he came to himself again, Mr. Noah was giving him something nasty +to drink out of a medicine glass, Mr. Perrin was patting him on the +back, all the people were shouting like mad, and more fireworks than +ever were being let off. Beside him lay the dragon, lifeless and still. + +[Illustration: Then something hard and heavy knocked him over.] + +'Oh!' said Philip, 'did I really do it?' + +'You did indeed,' said Mr. Noah; 'however you may succeed with the other +deeds, you are the hero of this one. And now, if you feel well enough, +prepare to receive the reward of Valour and Chivalry.' + +'Oh!' said Philip, brightening, 'I didn't know there was to be a +reward.' + +'Only the usual one,' said Mr Noah. 'The Princess, you know.' + +Philip became aware that a figure in a white veil was standing quite +near him; round its feet lay lengths of cut rope. + +'The Princess is yours,' said Mr. Noah, with generous affability. + +'But I don't want her,' said Philip, adding by an afterthought, 'thank +you.' + +'You should have thought of that before,' said Mr. Noah. 'You can't go +doing deeds of valour, you know, and then shirking the reward. Take her. +She is yours.' + +'Any one who likes may have her,' said Philip desperately. 'If she's +mine, I can give her away, can't I? You must see yourself I can't be +bothered with princesses if I've got all those other deeds to do.' + +'That's not my affair,' said Mr. Noah. 'Perhaps you might arrange to +board her out while you're doing your deeds. But at present she is +waiting for you to take her by the hand and raise her veil.' + +'Must I?' said Philip miserably. 'Well, here goes.' + +He took a small cold hand in one of his and with the other lifted, very +gingerly, a corner of the veil. The other hand of the Princess drew back +the veil, and the Dragon-Slayer and the Princess were face to face. + +'Why!' cried Philip, between relief and disgust, 'it's only Lucy!' + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ON THE CARPET + + +The Princess was just Lucy. + +'It's too bad,' said Philip. 'I do think.' Then he stopped short and +just looked cross. + +'The Princess and the Champion will now have their teas,' said Mr. Noah. +'Right about face, everybody, please, and quick march.' + +Philip and Lucy found themselves marching side by side through the night +made yellow with continuous fireworks. + +You must picture them marching across a great plain of grass where many +coloured flowers grew. You see a good many of Philip's buildings had +been made on the drawing-room carpet at home, which was green with pink +and blue and yellow and white flowers. And this carpet had turned into +grass and growing flowers, following that strange law which caused +things to change into other things, like themselves, but larger and +really belonging to a living world. + +No one spoke. Philip said nothing because he was in a bad temper. And if +you are in a bad temper, nothing is a good thing to say. To circumvent a +dragon and then kill it, and to have such an adventure end in tea with +Lucy, was too much. And he had other reasons for silence too. And Lucy +was silent because she had so much to say that she didn't know where to +begin; and besides, she could feel how cross Philip was. The crowd did +not talk because it was not etiquette to talk when taking part in +processions. Mr. Noah did not talk because it made him out of breath to +walk and talk at the same time, two things neither of which he had been +designed to do. + +So that it was quite a silent party which at last passed through the +gateway of the town and up its streets. + +Philip wondered where the tea would be--not in the prison of course. It +was very late for tea, too, quite the middle of the night it seemed. But +all the streets were brilliantly lighted, and flags and festoons of +flowers hung from all the windows and across all the streets. + +It was in the front of a big building in one of the great squares of the +city that an extra display of coloured lamps disclosed open doors and +red-carpeted steps. Mr. Noah hurried up them, and turned to receive +Philip and Lucy. + +'The City of Polistopolis,' he said, 'whose unworthy representative I +am, greets in my person the most noble Sir Philip, Knight and Slayer of +the Dragon. Also the Princess whom he has rescued. Be pleased to enter.' + +They went up the red-cloth covered steps and into a hall, very splendid +with silver and ivory. Mr. Noah stooped to a confidential question. + +'You'd like a wash, perhaps?' he said, 'and your Princess too. And +perhaps you'd like to dress up a little? Before the banquet, you know.' + +'Banquet?' said Philip. 'I thought it was tea.' + +'Business before pleasure,' said Mr. Noah; 'first the banquet, then the +tea. This way to the dressing-rooms.' + +There were two doors side by side. On one door was painted 'Knight's +dressing-room,' on the other 'Princess's dressing-room.' + +'Look out,' said Mr. Noah; 'the paint is wet. You see there wasn't much +time.' + +Philip found his dressing-room very interesting. The walls were entirely +of looking-glass, and on tables in the middle of the room lay all sorts +of clothes of beautiful colours and odd shapes. Shoes, stockings, hats, +crowns, armour, swords, cloaks, breeches, waistcoats, jerkins, trunk +hose. An open door showed a marble bath-room. The bath was sunk in the +floor as the baths of luxurious Roman Empresses used to be, and as +nowadays baths sometimes are, in model dwellings. (Only I am told that +some people keep their coals in the baths--which is quite useless +because coals are always black however much you wash them.) + +Philip undressed and went into the warm clear water, greenish between +the air and the marble. Why is it so pleasant to have a bath, and so +tiresome to wash your hands and face in a basin? He put on his shirt and +knickerbockers again, and wandered round the room looking at the clothes +laid out there, and wondering which of the wonderful costumes would be +really suitable for a knight to wear at a banquet. After considerable +hesitation he decided on a little soft shirt of chain-mail that made +just a double handful of tiny steel links as he held it. But a +difficulty arose. + +'I don't know how to put it on,' said Philip; 'and I expect the banquet +is waiting. How cross it'll be.' + +He stood undecided, holding the chain mail in his hands, when his eyes +fell on a bell handle. Above it was an ivory plate, and on it in black +letters the word Valet. Philip rang the bell. + +Instantly a soft tap at the door heralded the entrance of a person whom +Philip at the first glance supposed to be a sandwich man. But the second +glance showed that the oblong flat things which he wore were not +sandwich-boards, but dominoes. The person between them bowed low. + +'Oh!' said Philip, 'I rang for the valet.' + +'I am not the valet,' said the domino-enclosed person, who seemed to be +in skintight black clothes under his dominoes, 'I am the Master of the +Robes. I only attend on really distinguished persons. Double-six, at +your service, Sir. Have you chosen your dress?' + +'I'd like to wear the armour,' said Philip, holding it out. 'It seems +the right thing for a Knight,' he added. + +'Quite so, sir. I confirm your opinion.' + +He proceeded to dress Philip in a white tunic and to fasten the coat of +mail over this. 'I've had a great deal of experience,' he said; 'you +couldn't have chosen better. You see, I'm master of the subject of +dress. I am able to give my whole mind to it; my own dress being fixed +by law and not subject to changes of fashion leaves me free to think for +others. And I think deeply. But I see that you can think for yourself.' + +You have no idea how jolly Philip looked in the mail coat and mailed +hood--just like a Crusader. + +At the doorway of the dressing-room he met Lucy in a short white dress +and a coronal of pearls round her head. 'I always wanted to be a fairy,' +she said. + +'Did you have any one to dress you?' he asked. + +'Oh no!' said Lucy calmly. 'I always dress myself.' + +'Ladies have the advantage there,' said Double-six, bowing and walking +backwards. 'The banquet is spread.' + +It turned out to be spread on three tables, one along each side of a +great room, and one across the top of the room, on a dais--such a table +as that high one at which dons and distinguished strangers sit in the +Halls of colleges. + +Mr. Noah was already in his place in the middle of the high table, and +Lucy and Philip now took their places at each side of him. The table was +spread with all sorts of nice-looking foods and plates of a +pink-and-white pattern very familiar to Philip. They were, in fact, as +he soon realised, the painted wooden plates from his sister's old dolls' +house. There was no food just in front of the children, only a great +empty bowl of silver. + +Philip fingered his knife and fork; the pattern of those also was +familiar to him. They were indeed the little leaden ones out of the +dolls' house knife-basket of green and silver filagree. He hungrily +waited. Servants in straight yellow dresses and red masks and caps were +beginning to handle the dishes. A dish was handed to him. A beautiful +jelly it looked like. He took up his spoon and was just about to help +himself, when Mr. Noah whispered ardently, 'Don't!' and as Philip looked +at him in astonishment he added, still in a whisper, 'Pretend, can't +you? Have you never had a pretending banquet?' But before he had caught +the whisper, Philip had tried to press the edge of the leaden spoon into +the shape of jelly. And he felt that the jelly was quite hard. He went +through the form of helping himself, but it was just nothing that he put +on his plate. And he saw that Mr. Noah and Lucy and all the other guests +did the same. Presently another dish was handed to him. There was no +changing of plates. 'They _needn't_,' Philip thought bitterly. This time +it was a fat goose, not carved, and now Philip saw that it was attached +to its dish with glue. Then he understood. + +(You know the beautiful but uneatable feasts which are given you in a +white cardboard box with blue binding and fine shavings to pack the +dishes and keep them from breaking? I myself, when I was little, had +such a banquet in a box. There were twelve dishes: a ham, brown and +shapely; a pair of roast chickens, also brown and more anatomical than +the ham; a glazed tongue, real tongue-shape, none of your tinned round +mysteries; a dish of sausages; two handsome fish, a little blue, +perhaps; a joint of beef, ribs I think, very red as to the lean and very +white in the fat parts; a pork pie, delicately bronzed like a traveller +in Central Africa. For sweets I had shapes, shapes of beauty, a jelly +and a cream; a Swiss roll too, and a plum pudding; asparagus there was +also and a cauliflower, and a dish of the greenest peas in all this grey +world. This was my banquet outfit. I remember that the woodenness of it +all depressed us wonderfully; the oneness of dish and food baffled all +make-believe. With the point of nurse's scissors we prised the viands +from the platters. But their wooden nature was unconquerable. One could +not pretend to eat a whole chicken any better when it was detached from +its dish, and the sausages were one solid block. And when you licked the +jelly it only tasted of glue and paint. And when we tried to re-roast +the chickens at the nursery grate, they caught fire, and then they smelt +of gasworks and india-rubber. But I am wandering. When you remember the +things that happened when you were a child, you could go on writing +about them for ever. I will put all this in brackets, and then you need +not read it if you don't want to.) + +[Illustration: Mr. Noah whispered ardently, 'Don't!'] + +But those painted wooden foods adhering firmly to their dishes were the +kind of food of which the banquet now offered to Philip and Lucy was +composed. Only they had more dishes than I had. They had as well a +turkey, eight raspberry jam tarts, a pine-apple, a melon, a dish of +oysters in the shell, a piece of boiled bacon and a leg of mutton. But +all were equally wooden and uneatable. + +Philip and Lucy, growing hungrier and hungrier, pretended with sinking +hearts to eat and enjoy the wooden feast. Wine was served in those +little goblets which they knew so well, where the double glasses +restrained and contained a red fluid which _looked_ like wine. They did +not want wine, but they were thirsty as well as hungry. + +Philip wondered what the waiters were. He had plenty of time to wonder +while the long banquet went on. It was not till he saw a group of them +standing stiffly together at the end of the hall that he knew they must +be the matches with which he had once peopled a city, no other +inhabitants being at hand. + +When all the dishes had been handed, speeches happened. + +'Friends and fellow-citizens,' Mr. Noah began, and went on to say how +brave and clever Sir Philip was, and how likely it was that he would +turn out to be the Deliverer. Philip did not hear all this speech. He +was thinking of things to eat. + +Then every one in the hall stood and shouted, and Philip found that he +was expected to take his turn at speech-making. He stood up trembling +and wretched. + +'Friends and fellow-citizens,' he said, 'thank you very much. I want to +be the Deliverer, but I don't know if I can,' and sat down again amid +roars of applause. + +Then there was music, from a grated gallery. And then--I cannot begin to +tell you how glad Lucy and Philip were--Mr. Noah said, once more in a +whisper, 'Cheer up! the banquet is over. _Now_ we'll have tea.' + +'Tea' turned out to be bread and milk in a very cosy, blue-silk-lined +room opening out of the banqueting-hall. Only Lucy, Philip and Mr. Noah +were present. Bread and milk is very good even when you have to eat it +with the leaden spoons out of the dolls'-house basket. When it was much +later Mr. Noah suddenly said 'good-night,' and in a maze of sleepy +repletion (look that up in the dicker, will you?) the children went to +bed. Philip's bed was of gold with yellow satin curtains, and Lucy's was +made of silver, with curtains of silk that were white. But the metals +and colours made no difference to their deep and dreamless sleep. + +And in the morning there was bread and milk again, and the two of them +had it in the blue room without Mr. Noah. + +'Well,' said Lucy, looking up from the bowl of white floating cubes, 'do +you think you're getting to like me any better?' + +'_No_,' said Philip, brief and stern like the skipper in the song. + +'I wish you would,' said Lucy. + +'Well, I can't,' said Philip; 'but I do want to say one thing. I'm sorry +I bunked and left you. And I did come back.' + +'I know you did,' said Lucy. + +'I came back to fetch you,' said Philip, 'and now we'd better get along +home.' + +'You've got to do seven deeds of power before you can get home,' said +Lucy. + +'Oh! I remember, Perrin told me,' said he. + +'Well,' Lucy went on, 'that'll take ages. No one can go out of this +place _twice_ unless he's a King-Deliverer. You've gone out +_once_--without _me_. Before you can go again you've got to do seven +noble deeds.' + +'I killed the dragon,' said Philip, modestly proud. + +'That's only one,' she said; 'there are six more.' And she ate bread and +milk with firmness. + +'Do you like this adventure?' he asked abruptly. + +'It's more interesting than anything that ever happened to me,' she +said. 'If you were nice I should like it awfully. But as it is----' + +'I'm sorry you don't think I'm nice,' said he. + +'Well, what do _you_ think?' she said. + +Philip reflected. He did not want not to be nice. None of us do. Though +you might not think it to see how some of us behave. True politeness, he +remembered having been told, consists in showing an interest in other +people's affairs. + +'Tell me,' he said, very much wishing to be polite and nice. 'Tell me +what happened after I--after I--after you didn't come down the ladder +with me.' + +'Alone and deserted,' Lucy answered promptly, 'my sworn friend having +hooked it and left me, I fell down, and both my hands were full of +gravel, and the fierce soldiery surrounded me.' + +'I thought you were coming just behind me,' said Philip, frowning. + +'Well, I wasn't.' + +'And then.' + +'Well, then---- You _were_ silly not to stay. They surrounded me--the +soldiers, I mean--and the captain said, "Tell me the truth. Are you a +Destroyer or a Deliverer?" So, of course, I said I wasn't a destroyer, +whatever I was; and then they took me to the palace and said I could be +a Princess till the Deliverer King turned up. They said,' she giggled +gaily, 'that my hair was the hair of a Deliverer and not of a Destroyer, +and I've been most awfully happy ever since. Have you?' + +'No,' said Philip, remembering the miserable feeling of having been a +coward and a sneak that had come upon him when he found that he had +saved his own skin and left Lucy alone in an unknown and dangerous +world; 'not exactly happy, I shouldn't call it.' + +'It's beautiful being a Princess,' said Lucy. 'I wonder what your next +noble deed will be. I wonder whether I could help you with it?' She +looked wistfully at him. + +'If I'm going to do noble deeds I'll do them. I don't want any help, +thank you, especially from girls,' he answered. + +'I wish you did,' said Lucy, and finished her bread and milk. + +Philip's bowl also was empty. He stretched arms and legs and neck. + +'It is rum,' he said; 'before this began I never thought a thing like +this _could_ begin, did you?' + +'I don't know,' she said, 'everything's very wonderful. I've always been +expecting things to be more wonderful than they ever have been. You get +sort of hints and nudges, you know. Fairy tales--yes, and dreams, you +can't help feeling they must mean _something_. And your sister and my +daddy; the two of them being such friends when they were little, and +then parted and then getting friends again;--_that's_ like a story in a +dream, isn't it? And your building the city and me helping. And my daddy +being such a dear darling and your sister being such a darling dear. It +did make me think beautiful things were sort of likely. Didn't it you?' + +'No,' said Philip; 'I mean yes,' he said, and he was in that moment +nearer to liking Lucy than he had ever been before; 'everything's very +wonderful, isn't it?' + +'Ahem!' said a respectful cough behind them. + +They turned to meet the calm gaze of Double-six. + +'If you've quite finished breakfast, Sir Philip,' he said, 'Mr. Noah +would be pleased to see you in his office.' + +'Me too?' said Lucy, before Philip could say, 'Only me, I suppose?' + +'You may come too, if you wish it, your Highness,' said Double-six, +bowing stiffly. + +They found Mr. Noah very busy in a little room littered with papers; he +was sitting at a table writing. + +'Good-morning, Princess,' he said, 'good-morning, Sir Philip. You see me +very busy. I am trying to arrange for your next labour.' + +'Do you mean my next deed of valour?' Philip asked. + +'We have decided that all your deeds need not be deeds of valour,' said +Mr. Noah, fiddling with a pen. 'The strange labours of Hercules, you +remember, were some of them dangerous and some merely difficult. I have +decided that difficult things shall count. There are several things that +really _need_ doing,' he went on half to himself. 'There's the fruit +supply, and the Dwellers by the sea, and---- But that must wait. We try +to give you as much variety as possible. Yesterday's was an out-door +adventure. To-day's shall be an indoor amusement. I say to-day's but I +confess that I think it not unlikely that the task I am now about to set +the candidate for the post of King-Deliverer, the task, I say, which I +am now about to set you, may, quite possibly, occupy some days, if not +weeks of your valuable time.' + +'But our people at home,' said Philip. 'It isn't that I'm afraid, really +and truly it isn't, but they'll go out of their minds, not knowing +what's become of us. Oh, Mr. Noah! do let us go back.' + +'It's all right,' said Mr. Noah. 'However long you stay here time won't +move with them. I thought I'd explained that to you.' + +'But you said----' + +'I said you'd set our clocks to the time of _your_ world when you +deserted your little friend. But when you had come back for her, and +rescued her from the dragon, the clocks went their own time again. +There's only just that time missing that happened between your coming +here the second time and your killing the dragon.' + +'I see,' said Philip. But he didn't. I only hope _you_ do. + +'You can take your time about this new job,' said Mr. Noah, 'and you may +get any help you like. I shan't consider you've failed till you've been +at it three months. After that the Pretenderette would be entitled to +_her_ chance.' + +'If you're quite sure that the time here doesn't count at home,' said +Philip, 'what is it, please, that we've got to do?' + +'The greatest intellects of our country have for many ages occupied +themselves with the problem which you are now asked to solve,' said Mr. +Noah. 'Your late gaoler, Mr. Bacon-Shakespeare, has written no less than +twenty-seven volumes, all in cypher, on this very subject. But as he has +forgotten what cypher he used, and no one else ever knew it, his volumes +are of but little use to us.' + +'I see,' said Philip. And again he didn't. + +Mr. Noah rose to his full height, and when he stood up the children +looked very small beside him. + +'Now,' he said, 'I will tell you what it is that you must do. I should +like to decree that your second labour should be the tidying up of this +room--_all_ these papers are prophecies relating to the Deliverer--but +it is one of our laws that the judge must not use any public matter for +his own personal benefit. So I have decided that the next labour shall +be the disentangling of the Mazy Carpet. It is in the Pillared Hall of +Public Amusements. I will get my hat and we will go there at once. I +can tell you about it as we go.' + +And as they went down streets and past houses and palaces all of which +Philip could now dimly remember to have built at some time or other, Mr. +Noah went on: + +'It is a very beautiful hall, but we have never been able to use it for +public amusement or anything else. The giant who originally built this +city placed in this hall a carpet so thick that it rises to your knees, +and so intricately woven that none can disentangle it. It is far too +thick to pass through any of the doors. It is your task to remove it.' + +'Why that's as easy as easy,' said Philip. 'I'll cut it in bits and +bring out a bit at a time.' + +'That would be most unfortunate for you,' said Mr. Noah. 'I filed only +this morning a very ancient prophecy: + + 'He who shall the carpet sever, + By fire or flint or steel, + Shall be fed on orange pips for ever, + And dressed in orange peel. + +You wouldn't like that, you know.' + +'No,' said Philip grimly, 'I certainly shouldn't.' + +'The carpet must be _unravelled_, unwoven, so that not a thread is +broken. Here is the hall.' + +They went up steps--Philip sometimes wished he had not been so fond of +building steps--and through a dark vestibule to an arched door. Looking +through it they saw a great hall and at its end a raised space, more +steps, and two enormous pillars of bronze wrought in relief with figures +of flying birds. + +'Father's Japanese vases,' Lucy whispered. + +The floor of the room was covered by the carpet. It was loosely but +difficultly woven of very thick soft rope of a red colour. When I say +difficultly, I mean that it wasn't just straight-forward in the weaving, +but the threads went over and under and round about in such a determined +and bewildering way that Philip felt--and said--that he would rather +untie the string of a hundred of the most difficult parcels than tackle +this. + +'Well,' said Mr. Noah, 'I leave you to it. Board and lodging will be +provided at the Provisional Palace where you slept last night. All +citizens are bound to assist when called upon. Dinner is at one. +_Good_-morning!' + +Philip sat down in the dark archway and gazed helplessly at the twisted +strands of the carpet. After a moment of hesitation Lucy sat down too, +clasped her arms round her knees, and she also gazed at the carpet. They +had all the appearance of shipwrecked mariners looking out over a great +sea and longing for a sail. + +'Ha ha--tee hee!' said a laugh close behind them. They turned. And it +was the motor-veiled lady, the hateful Pretenderette, who had crept up +close behind them, and was looking down at them through her veil. + +'What do you want?' said Philip severely. + +'I want to laugh,' said the motor lady. 'I want to laugh at _you_. And +I'm going to.' + +'Well go and laugh somewhere else then,' Philip suggested. + +'Ah! but this is where I want to laugh. You and your carpet! You'll +never do it. You don't know how. But _I_ do.' + +'Come away,' whispered Lucy, and they went. The Pretenderette followed +slowly. Outside, a couple of Dutch dolls in check suits were passing, +arm in arm. + +'Help!' cried Lucy suddenly, and the Dutch dolls paused and took their +hats off. + +'What is it?' the taller doll asked, stroking his black painted +moustache. + +'Mr. Noah said all citizens were bound to help us,' said Lucy a little +breathlessly. + +'But of course,' said the shorter doll, bowing with stiff courtesy. + +'Then,' said Lucy, 'will you _please_ take that motor person away and +put her somewhere where she can't bother till we've done the carpet?' + +'Delighted,' exclaimed the agreeable Dutch strangers, darted up the +steps and next moment emerged with the form of the Pretenderette between +them, struggling indeed, but struggling vainly. + +'You need not have the slightest further anxiety,' the taller Dutchman +said; 'dismiss the incident from your mind. We will take her to the hall +of justice. Her offence is bothering people in pursuit of their duty. +The sentence is imprisonment for as long as the botheree chooses. +Good-morning.' + +'Oh, _thank you_!' said both the children together. + +When they were alone, Philip said--and it was not easy to say it: + +'That was jolly clever of you, Lucy. I should never have thought of it.' + +'Oh, that's nothing,' said Lucy, looking down. 'I could do more than +that.' + +'What?' he asked. + +'I could unravel the carpet,' said Lucy, with deep solemnity. + +'But it's me that's got to do it,' Philip urged. + +'Every citizen is bound to help, if called in,' Lucy reminded him. 'And +I suppose a princess _is_ a citizen.' + +'Perhaps I can do it by myself,' said Philip. + +'Try,' said Lucy, and sat down on the steps, her fairy skirts spreading +out round her like a white double hollyhock. + +He tried. He went back and looked at the great coarse cables of the +carpet. He could see no end to the cables, no beginning to his task. And +Lucy just went on sitting there like a white hollyhock. And time went +on, and presently became, rather urgently, dinner-time. + +So he went back to Lucy and said: + +'All right, you can show me how to do it, if you like.' + +But Lucy replied: + +'Not much! If you want me to help you with _this_, you'll have to +promise to let me help in all the other things. And you'll have to _ask_ +me to help--ask me politely too.' + +'I shan't then,' said Philip. But in the end he had to--politely also. + +'With pleasure,' said Lucy, the moment he asked her, and he could see +she had been making up what she should answer, while he was making up +his mind to ask. 'I shall be delighted to help you in this and all the +other tasks. Say yes.' + +'Yes,' said Philip, who was very hungry. + +'"In this and all the other tasks" say.' + +'In this and all the other tasks,' he said. 'Go on. How can we do it?' + +'It's _crochet_,' Lucy giggled. 'It's a little crochet mat I'd made of +red wool; and I put it in the hall that night. You've just got to find +the end and pull, and it all comes undone. You just want to find the end +and pull.' + +'It's too heavy for us to pull.' + +'Well,' said Lucy, who had certainly had time to think everything out, +'you get one of those twisty round things they pull boats out of the sea +with, and I'll find the end while you're getting it.' + +She ran up the steps and Philip looked round the buildings on the other +three sides of the square, to see if any one of them looked like a +capstan shop, for he understood, as of course you also have done, that a +capstan was what Lucy meant. + +On a building almost opposite he read, 'Naval Necessaries Supply +Company,' and he ran across to it. + +'Rather,' said the secretary of the company, a plump sailor-doll, when +Philip had explained his needs. 'I'll send a dozen men over at once. +Only too proud to help, Sir Philip. The navy is always keen on helping +valour and beauty.' + +'I want to be brave,' said Philip, 'but I'd rather not be beautiful.' + +'Of course not,' said the secretary; and added surprisingly, 'I meant +the Lady Lucy.' + +'Oh!' said Philip. + +So twelve bluejackets and a capstan outside the Hall of Public +Amusements were soon the centre of a cheering crowd. Lucy had found the +end of the rope, and two sailors dragged it out and attached it to the +capstan, and then--round and round with a will and a breathless +chanty--the carpet was swiftly unravelled. Dozens of eager helpers stood +on the parts of the carpet which were not being unravelled, to keep it +steady while the pulling went on. + +The news of Philip's success spread like wild-fire through the city, and +the crowds gathered thicker and thicker. The great doors beyond the +pillars with the birds on them were thrown open, and Mr. Noah and the +principal citizens stood there to see the end of the unravelling. + +'Bravo!' said every one in tremendous enthusiasm. 'Bravo! Sir Philip.' + +'It wasn't me,' said Philip difficultly, when the crowd paused for +breath; 'it was Lucy thought of it.' + +'Bravo! Bravo!' shouted the crowd louder than ever. 'Bravo, for the Lady +Lucy! Bravo for Sir Philip, the modest truth-teller!' + +[Illustration: So, all down the wide clear floor, Lucy danced.] + +'Bravo, my dear,' said Mr. Noah, waving his hat and thumping Lucy on the +back. + +'I'm awfully glad I thought of it,' she said; 'that makes two deeds Sir +Philip's done, doesn't it? Two out of the seven.' + +'Yes, indeed,' said Mr. Noah enthusiastically. 'I must make him a +baronet now. His title will grow grander with each deed. There's an old +prophecy that the person who finds out how to unravel the carpet must be +the first to dance in the Hall of Public Amusements. + + 'The clever one, the noble one, + Who makes the carpet come undone, + Shall be the first to dance a measure + Within the Hall of public pleasure. + +I suppose public _amusement_ was too difficult a rhyme even for these +highly-skilled poets, our astrologers. You, my child, seem to have been +well inspired in your choice of a costume. Dance, then, my Lady Lucy, +and let the prophecy be fulfilled.' + +So, all down the wide clear floor of the Hall of Public Amusement, Lucy +danced. And the people of the city looked on and applauded, Philip with +the rest. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE LIONS IN THE DESERT + + +'But why?' asked Philip at dinner, which was no painted wonder of wooden +make-believe, but real roast guinea-fowl and angel pudding, 'Why do you +only have wooden things to eat at your banquets?' + +'Banquets are extremely important occasions,' said Mr. Noah, 'and real +food--food that you can eat and enjoy--only serves to distract the mind +from the serious affairs of life. Many of the most successful caterers +in your world have grasped this great truth.' + +'But why,' Lucy asked, 'do you have the big silver bowls with nothing in +them?' + +Mr. Noah sighed. 'The bowls are for dessert,' he said. + +'But there isn't any dessert _in_ them,' Lucy objected. + +'No,' said Mr. Noah, sighing again, 'that's just it. There is no +dessert. There has never been any dessert. Will you have a little more +angel pudding?' + +It was quite plain to Lucy and Philip that Mr. Noah wished to change the +subject, which, for some reason, was a sad one, and with true politeness +they both said 'Yes, please,' to the angel pudding offer, though they +had already had quite as much as they really needed. + +After dinner Mr. Noah took them for a walk through the town, 'to see the +factories,' he said. This surprised Philip, who had been taught not to +build factories with his bricks because factories were so ugly, but the +factories turned out to be pleasant, long, low houses, with tall French +windows opening into gardens of roses, where people of all nations made +beautiful and useful things, and loved making them. And all the people +who were making them looked clean and happy. + +'I wish we had factories like those,' Philip said. 'Our factories _are_ +so ugly. Helen says so.' + +'That's because all your factories are _money_ factories,' said Mr. +Noah, 'though they're called by all sorts of different names. Every one +here has to make something that isn't just money or _for_ +money--something useful _and_ beautiful.' + +'Even you?' said Lucy. + +'Even I,' said Mr. Noah. + +'What do you make?' the question was bound to come. + +'Laws, of course,' Mr. Noah answered in some surprise. 'Didn't you know +I was the Chief Judge?' + +'But laws can't be useful and beautiful, can they?' + +'They can certainly be useful,' said Mr. Noah, 'and,' he added with +modest pride, 'my laws are beautiful. What do you think of this? +"Everybody must try to be kind to everybody else. Any one who has been +unkind must be sorry and say so."' + +'It seems all right,' said Philip, 'but it's not exactly beautiful.' + +'Oh, don't you think so?' said Mr. Noah, a little hurt; 'it mayn't +_sound_ beautiful perhaps--I never could write poetry--but it's quite +beautiful when people do it.' + +'Oh, if you mean your laws are beautiful when they're _kept_,' said +Philip. + +'Beautiful things can't be beautiful when they're broken, of course,' +Mr. Noah explained. 'Not even laws. But ugly laws are only beautiful +when they _are_ broken. That's odd, isn't it? Laws are very tricky +things.' + +'I say,' Philip said suddenly, as they climbed one of the steep flights +of steps between trees in pots, 'couldn't we do another of the deeds +now? I don't feel as if I'd really done anything to-day at all. It was +Lucy who did the carpet. Do tell us the next deed.' + +'The next deed,' Mr. Noah answered, 'will probably take some time. +There's no reason why you should not begin it to-day if you like. It is +a deed peculiarly suited to a baronet. I don't know why,' he added +hastily; 'it may be that it is the only thing that baronets are good +for. I shouldn't wonder. The existence of baronets,' he added musingly, +'has always seemed to the thoughtful to lack justification. Perhaps this +deed which you will begin to-day is the wise end to which baronets were +designed.' + +'Yes, I daresay,' said Philip; 'but what is the end?' + +'I don't know,' Mr. Noah owned, 'but I'll tell you what the _deed_ is. +You've got to journey to the land of the Dwellers by the Sea and, by any +means that may commend itself to you, slay their fear.' + +Philip naturally asked what the Dwellers by the Sea were afraid of. + +'That you will learn from them,' said Mr. Noah; 'but it is a very great +fear.' + +'Is it something we shall be afraid of _too_?' Lucy asked. And Philip at +once said, 'Oh, then she really did mean to come, did she? But she +wasn't to if she was afraid. Girls weren't expected to be brave.' + +'They _are_, here,' said Mr. Noah, 'the girls are expected to be brave +and the boys kind.' + +'Oh,' said Philip doubtfully. And Lucy said: + +'Of course I meant to come. You know you promised.' + +So that was settled. + +'And now,' said Mr. Noah, rubbing his hands with the cheerful air of one +who has a great deal to do and is going to enjoy doing it, 'we must fit +you out a proper expedition, for the Dwellers by the Sea are a very long +way off. What would you like to ride on?' + +'A horse,' said Philip, truly pleased. He said horse, because he did not +want to ride a donkey, and he had never seen any one ride any animal but +these two. + +'That's right,' Mr. Noah said, patting him on the back. 'I _was_ so +afraid you'd ask for a bicycle. And there's a dreadful law here--it was +made by mistake, but there it is--that if any one asks for machinery +they have to have it and keep on using it. But as to a horse. Well, I'm +not sure. You see, you have to ride right across the pebbly waste, and +it's a good three days' journey. But come along to the stables.' + +You know the kind of stables they would be? The long shed with stalls +such as you had, when you were little, for your little wooden horses and +carts? Only there were not only horses here, but every sort of animal +that has ever been ridden on. Elephants, camels, donkeys, mules, bulls, +goats, zebras, tortoises, ostriches, bisons, and pigs. And in the last +stall of all, which was not of common wood but of beaten silver, stood +the very Hippogriff himself, with his long, white mane and his long, +white tail, and his gentle, beautiful eyes. His long, white wings were +folded neatly on his satin-smooth back, and how he and the stall got +here was more than Philip could guess. All the others were Noah's Ark +animals, alive, of course, but still Noah's Arky beyond possibility of +mistake. But the Hippogriff was not Noah's Ark at all. + +'He came,' Mr. Noah explained, 'out of a book. One of the books you used +to build your city with.' + +'Can't we have _him_?' Lucy said; 'he looks such a darling.' And the +Hippogriff turned his white velvet nose and nuzzled against her in +affectionate acknowledgment of the compliment. + +'Not if you both go,' Mr. Noah explained. 'He cannot carry more than one +person at a time unless one is an Earl. No, if I may advise, I should +say go by camel.' + +'Can the camel carry two?' + +'Of course. He is called the ship of the desert,' Mr. Noah informed +them, 'and a ship that wouldn't carry more than one would be simply +silly.' + +So _that_ was settled. Mr. Noah himself saddled and bridled the camel, +which was a very large one, with his own hands. + +'Let me see,' he said, standing thoughtful with the lead rope in his +hand, 'you'll be wanting dogs--' + +'I _always_ want dogs,' said Philip warmly. + +'--to use in emergencies.' He whistled and two Noah's Ark dogs leaped +from their kennels to their chains' end. They were dachshunds, very long +and low, and very alike except that one was a little bigger and a little +browner than the other. + +'This is your master and that's your mistress,' Mr. Noah explained to +the dogs, and they fawned round the children. + +'Then you'll want things to eat and things to drink and tents and +umbrellas in case of bad weather, and---- But let's turn down this +street; just at the corner we shall find exactly what we want.' + +It was a shop that said outside 'Universal Provider. Expeditions fitted +out at a moment's notice. Punctuality and dispatch.' The shopkeeper came +forward politely. He was so exactly like Mr. Noah that the children knew +who he was even before he said, 'Well, father,' and Mr. Noah said, 'This +is my son: he has had some experience in outfits.' + +'What have you got to start with?' the son asked, getting to business at +once. + +'Two dogs, two children, and a camel,' said Mr. Noah. 'Yes, I know it's +customary to have two of everything, but I assure you, my dear boy, that +one camel is as much as Sir Philip can manage. It is indeed.' + +Mr. Noah's son very dutifully supposed that his father knew best and +willingly agreed to provide everything that was needed for the +expedition, including one best-quality talking parrot, and to deliver +all goods, carefully packed, within half an hour. + + . . . . . . . + +So now you see Philip, and Lucy who still wore her fairy dress, packed +with all their belongings on the top of a very large and wobbly camel, +and being led out of the city by the usual procession, with seven bands +of music all playing 'See the Conquering Hero goes,' quite a different +tune from the one you know, which has a name a little like that. + +The camel and its load were rather a tight fit for the particular +gateway that they happened to go out by, and the children had to stoop +to avoid scraping their heads against the top of the arch. But they got +through all right, and now they were well on the road which was really +little more than a field path running through the flowery meadow country +where the dragon had been killed. They saw the Stonehenge ruins and the +big tower far away to the left, and in front lay the vast and +interesting expanse of the Absolutely Unknown. + +The sun was shining--there was a sun, and Mr. Noah had told the +children that it came out of the poetry books, together with rain and +flowers and the changing seasons--and in spite of the strange, +almost-tumble-no-it's-all-right-but-you'd-better-look-out way in which +the camel walked, the two travellers were very happy. The dogs bounded +along in the best of spirits, and even the camel seemed less a prey than +usual to that proud melancholy which you must have noticed in your +visits to the Zoo as his most striking quality. + +It was certainly very grand to ride on a camel, and Lucy tried not to +think how difficult it would be to get on and off. The parrot was +interesting too. It talked extremely well. Of course you understand +that, if you can only make a parrot understand, it can tell you +everything you want to know about other animals; because it understands +_their_ talk quite naturally and without being made. The present parrot +declined ordinary conversation, and when questioned only recited poetry +of a rather dull kind that went on and on. 'Arms and the man I sing' it +began, and then something about haughty Juno. Its voice was soothing, +and riding on the camel was not unlike being rocked in a very bumpety +cradle. The children were securely seated in things like padded +panniers, and they had had an exciting day. As the sun set, which it did +quite soon, the parrot called out to the nearest dog, 'I say, Max, +they're asleep.' + +[Illustration: On the top of a very large and wobbly camel.] + +'I don't wonder,' said Max. 'But it's all right. Humpty knows the way.' + +'Keep a civil tongue in your head, you young dog, can't you?' said the +camel grumpily. + +'Don't be cross, darling,' said the other dog, whose name was Brenda, +'and be sure you stop at a really first-class oasis for the night. But I +know we can trust _you_, dear.' + +The camel muttered that it was all very well, but his voice was not +quite as cross as before. + +After that the expedition went on in silence through the deepening +twilight. + +A tumbling, shaking, dumping sensation, more like a soft railway +accident than anything else, awakened our travellers, and they found +that the camel was kneeling down. + +'Off you come,' said the parrot, 'and make the fire and boil the +kettle.' + +'Polly put the kettle on,' Lucy said absently, as she slid down to the +ground; to which the parrot replied, 'Certainly not. I wish you wouldn't +rake up that old story. It was quite false. I never did put a kettle on, +and I never will.' + +Why should I describe to you the adventure of camping at an oasis in a +desert? You must all have done it many times; or if you have not done +it, you have read about it. You know all about the well and the palm +trees and the dates and things. They had cocoa for supper. It was great +fun, and they slept soundly and awoke in the morning with a heart for +any fate, as a respectable poet puts it. + +The next day was just the same as the first, only instead of going +through fresh green fields, the way lay through dry yellow desert. And +again the children slept, and again the camel chose an oasis with +remarkable taste and judgment. But the second night was not at all the +same as the first. For in the middle of it the parrot awakened Philip by +biting his ear, and then hopping to a safe distance from his awakening +fists and crying out, 'Make up the camp fire--look alive. It's lions.' +The dogs were whining and barking, and Brenda was earnestly trying to +climb a palm tree. Max faced the danger, it is true, but he seemed to +have no real love of sport. + +Philip sprang up and heaped dead palm scales and leaves on the dying +fire. It blazed up and something moved beyond the bushes. Philip +wondered whether those pairs of shining things, like strayed stars, that +he saw in the darkness, could really be the eyes of lions. + +'What a nuisance these lions are to be sure,' said the parrot. 'No, they +won't come near us while the fire's burning, but really, they ought to +be put down by law.' + +'Why doesn't somebody kill them?' Lucy asked. She had wakened when +Philip did, and, after a meditative minute, had helped with the palm +scales and things. + +'It's not so easy,' said the parrot; 'nobody knows how to do it. How +would _you_ kill a lion?' + +'_I_ don't know,' said Philip; but Lucy said, 'Are they Noah's Ark +lions?' + +'Of course they are,' said Polly; 'all the books with lions in them are +kept shut up.' + +'I know how you could kill Noah's Ark lions if you could catch them,' +Lucy said. + +'It's easy enough to catch them,' said Polly; 'an hour after dawn they +go to sleep, but it's unsportsmanlike to kill game when it's asleep.' + +'I'm going to think, if you don't mind,' Lucy announced, and sat down +very near the fire. 'It's just the opposite of the dragon,' she said +after a minute. The parrot nodded and there was a long silence. Then +suddenly Lucy jumped up. + +'I know,' she cried, 'oh--I really _do_ know. And it won't hurt them +either. I don't a bit mind killing things, but I do hate hurting them. +There's plenty of rope, I know.' + +There was. + +'Then when it's dawn we'll tie them up and then you'll see.' + +'I think you might tell _me_,' said Philip, injured. + +'No--they may understand what we say. Polly does.' + +Philip made a natural suggestion. But Lucy replied that it was not +manners to whisper, and the parrot said that it should think not indeed. + +So, sitting by the fire, all faces turned to where those strange twin +stars shone and those strange hidden movements and rustlings stirred, +the expedition waited for the dawn. Brenda had given up the +tree-climbing idea, and was cuddling up as close to Lucy as possible. +The camel, who had been trembling with fear all the while, tried to +cuddle up to Philip, which would have been easier if it had been a +smaller kind instead of being, as it was, what Mr. Noah's son, the +Universal Provider, had called, 'an out size in camels.' + +And presently dawn came, not slow and silvery as dawns come here, but +sudden and red, with strong level lights and the shadows of the palm +trees stretching all across the desert. + +In broad daylight it did not seem so hard to have to go and look for the +lions. They all went--even the camel pulled himself together to join the +lion-hunt, and Brenda herself decided to come rather than be left alone. + +The lions were easily found. There were only two of them, of course, and +they were lying close together, each on its tawny side on the sandy +desert at the edge of the oasis. + +Very gently the ropes, with slip knots, were fitted over their heads, +and the other end of the rope passed round a palm tree. Other ropes +round the trees were passed round what would have been the waists of the +lions if lions had such things as waists. + +'Now!' whispered Lucy, and at once all four ropes were pulled tight. The +lions struggled, but only in their sleep. And soon they were still. Then +with more and more ropes their legs and tails were made fast. + +'And that's all right,' said Lucy, rather out of breath. 'Where's +Polly?' + +'Here,' replied that bird from a neighbouring bush. 'I thought I should +only be in the way if I kept close to you. But I longed to lend a claw +in such good work. Can I help _now_?' + +'Will you please explain to the dogs?' said Lucy. 'It's their turn now. +The only way I know to kill Noah's Ark lions is to _lick the paint off_ +and break their legs. And if the dogs lick all the paint off their legs +they won't feel it when we break them.' + +Polly hastened to explain to the dogs, and then turned again to Lucy. + +'They asked if you're sure the ropes will hold, and I've told them of +course. So now they're going to begin. I only hope the paint won't make +them ill.' + +'It never did me,' said Lucy. 'I sucked the dove quite clean one Sunday, +and it wasn't half bad. Tasted of sugar a little and eucalyptus oil like +they give you when you've got a cold. Tell them that, Polly.' + +Polly did, and added, 'I will recite poetry to them to hearten them to +their task.' + +'Do,' said Philip heartily, 'it may make them hurry up. But perhaps +you'd better tell them that we shall pinch their tails if they happen to +go to sleep.' + +Then the children had a cocoa-and-date breakfast. (All expeditions seem +to live mostly on cocoa, and when they come back they often write to the +cocoa makers to say how good it was and they don't know what they would +have done without it.) And the noble and devoted dogs licked and licked +and licked, and the paint began to come off the lions' legs like +anything. It was heavy work turning the lions over so as to get at the +other or unlicked side, but the expedition worked with a will, and the +lions resisted but feebly, being still asleep, and, besides, weak from +loss of paint. And the dogs had a drink given them and were patted and +praised, and set to work again. And they licked and licked for hours and +hours. And in the end all the paint was off the lions' legs, and Philip +chopped them off with the explorer's axe which that experienced +Provider, Mr. Noah's son, had thoughtfully included in the outfit of the +expedition. And as he chopped the chips flew, and Lucy picked one up, +and it was _wood_, just wood and nothing else, though when they had +tied it up it had been real writhing resisting lion-leg and no mistake. +And when all the legs were chopped off, Philip put his hand on a lion +body, and that was wood too. So the lions were dead indeed. + +[Illustration: It was heavy work turning the lions over.] + +'It seems a pity,' he said. 'Lions are such jolly beasts when they are +alive.' + +'I never cared for lions myself,' said Polly; and Lucy said, 'Never +mind, Phil. It didn't hurt them anyway.' + +And that was the first time she ever called him Phil. + +'All right, Lu,' said Philip. 'It was jolly clever of you to think of it +anyhow.' + +And that was the first time he ever called her Lu. + + . . . . . . . + +They saw the straight pale line of the sea for a long time before they +came to the place of the Dwellers by the Sea. For these people had built +their castle down on the very edge of the sea, and the Pebbly Waste rose +and rose to a mountain that hid their castle from the eyes of the +camel-riders who were now drawing near to the scene of their next deed. +The Pebbly Waste was all made of small slippery stones, and the children +understood how horrid a horse would have found it. Even the camel +went very slowly, and the dogs no longer frisked and bounded, but +went at a foot's pace with drooping ears and tails. + +'I should call a halt, if I were you,' said Polly. 'We shall all be the +better for a cup of cocoa. And besides----' + +Polly refused to explain this dark hint and only added, 'Look out for +surprises.' + +'I thought,' said Philip, draining the last of his second mug of cocoa, +'I thought there were no birds in the desert except you, and you're more +a person than a bird. But look there.' + +Far away across the desert a moving speck showed, high up in the blue +air. It grew bigger and bigger, plainly coming towards the camp. It was +as big as a moth now, now as big as a teacup, now as big as an eagle, +and---- + +'But it's got four legs,' said Lucy. + +'Yes,' said the parrot; 'it would have, you know. It is the Hippogriff.' + +It was indeed that magnificent wonder. Flying through the air with long +sweeps of his great white wings, the Hippogriff drew nearer and nearer, +bearing on his back--what? + +'It's the Pretenderette,' cried Lucy, and at the same moment Philip +said, 'It's that nasty motor thing.' + +It was. The Hippogriff dropped from the sky to the desert below as +softly as a butterfly alighting on a flower, and stood there in all his +gracious whiteness. And on his back was the veiled motor lady. + +'So glad I've caught you up,' she said in that hateful voice of hers; +'now we can go on together.' + +'I don't see what you wanted to come at all for,' said Philip +downrightly. + +'Oh, _don't_ you?' she said, sitting up there on the Hippogriff with her +horrid motor veil fluttering in the breeze from the now hidden sea. +'Why, of course, I have a right to be present at all experiments. There +ought to be some responsible grown-up person to see that you really do +what you're sure to say you've done.' + +'Do you mean that we're liars?' Philip asked hotly. + +'I don't mean to _say_ anything about it,' the Pretenderette answered +with an unpleasant giggle, 'but a grown-up person ought to be present.' +She added something about a parcel of birds and children. And the parrot +ruffled his feathers till he looked twice his proper size. + +Philip said he didn't see it. + +'Oh, but _I_ do,' said the Pretenderette; 'if you fail, then it's my +turn, and I might very likely succeed the minute after you'd failed. So +we'll all go on comfortably together. _Won't_ that be nice?' + +A speechless despair seemed to have fallen on the party. Nobody spoke. +The children looked blank, the dogs whined, the camel put on his +haughtiest sneer, and the parrot fidgeted in his fluffed-out feather +dress. + +'Let's be starting,' said the motor lady. 'Gee-up, pony!' A shiver ran +through every one present. That a Pretenderette should dare to speak so +to a Hippogriff! + +Suddenly the parrot spread its wings and flew to perch on Philip's +shoulder. It whispered in his ear. + +'Whispering is not manners, I know,' it said, 'but your own generous +heart will excuse me. "Parcel of birds and children." Doesn't your blood +boil?' + +Philip thought it did. + +'Well, then,' said the bird impatiently, 'what are we waiting for? +You've only got to say the word and I'll take her back by the ear.' + +'I wish you would,' said Philip from the heart. + +'Nothing easier,' said the parrot, 'the miserable outsider! Intruding +into _our_ expedition! I advise you to await my return here. Or if I am +not back by the morning there will be no objection to your calling, +about noon, on the Dwellers. I can rejoin you there. Good-bye.' + +It stroked his ear with a gentle and kindly beak and flew into the air +and circled three times round the detested motor lady's head. + +'Get away,' she cried, flapping her hands furiously; 'call your silly +Poll-parrot off, can't you?' And then she screamed, 'Oh! it's got hold +of my ear!' + +'Oh, don't hurt her,' said Lucy. + +'I will not hurt her;' the parrot let the ear go on purpose to say this, +and the Pretenderette covered both ears with her hands. 'You person in +the veil, I shall take hold again in a moment. And it will hurt you much +less if the Hippogriff and I happen to be flying in the same direction. +See? If I were you I should just say "Go back the way you came, please," +to the Hippogriff, and then I shall hardly hurt you at all. Don't think +of getting off. If you do, the dogs will have you. Keep your hands over +your ears if you like. I know you can hear me well enough. Now I am +going to take hold of you again. Keep your hands where they are. I'm not +particular to an ear or so. A nose will do just as well.' + +The person on the Hippogriff put both hands to her nose. Instantly the +parrot had her again by the ear. + +'Go back the way you came,' she cried; 'but I'll be even with you +children yet.' + +The Hippogriff did not move. + +'Let go my ear,' screamed the lady. + +'You'll have to say please, you know,' said Philip; 'not to the bird, I +don't mean that: that's no good. But to the Hippogriff.' + +'_Please_ then,' said the lady in a burst of temper, and instantly the +white wings parted and spread and the Hippogriff rose in the air. Polly +let the ear go for the moment to say: + +'I shan't hurt her so long as she behaves,' and then took hold again and +his little grey wings and the big white wings of the Hippogriff went +sailing away across the desert. + +'What a treasure of a parrot?' said Philip. But Lucy said: + +'Who _is_ that Pretenderette? Why is she so horrid to us when every one +else is so nice?' + +'I don't know,' said Philip, 'hateful old thing.' + +'I can't help feeling as if I knew her quite well, if I could only +remember who she is.' + +'Do you?' said Philip. 'I say, let's play noughts and crosses. I've got +a notebook and a bit of pencil in my pocket. We might play till it's +time to go to sleep.' + +So they played noughts and crosses on the Pebbly Waste, and behind them +the parrot and the Hippogriff took away the tiresome one, and in front +of them lay the high pebble ridge that was like a mountain, and beyond +that was the unknown and the adventure and the Dwellers and the deed to +be done. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE DWELLERS BY THE SEA + + +You soon get used to things. It seemed quite natural and homelike to +Philip to be wakened in bright early out-of-door's morning by the gentle +beak of the parrot at his ear. + +'You got back all right then,' he said sleepily. + +'It was rather a long journey,' said the parrot, 'but I thought it +better to come back by wing. The Hippogriff offered to bring me; he is +the soul of courteous gentleness. But he was tired too. The +Pretenderette is in gaol for the moment, but I'm afraid she'll get out +again; we're so unused to having prisoners, you see. And it's no use +putting _her_ on her honour, because----' + +'Because she hasn't any,' Philip finished. + +'I wouldn't say _that_,' said the parrot, 'of anybody. I'd only say we +haven't come across it. What about breakfast?' + +'How meals do keep happening,' said Lucy, yawning; 'it seems only a few +minutes since supper. And yet here we are, hungry again!' + +'Ah!' said the parrot, 'that's what people always feel when they have to +get their meals themselves!' + +When the camel and the dogs had been served with breakfast, the children +and the parrot sat down to eat. And there were many questions to ask. +The parrot answered some, and some it didn't answer. + +'But there's one thing,' said Lucy, 'I do most awfully want to know. +About the Hippogriff. How did it get out of the book?' + +'It's a long story,' said the parrot, 'so I'll tell it shortly. That's a +very good rule. Tell short stories longly and long stories shortly. Many +years ago, in repairing one of the buildings, the masons removed the +supports of one of the books which are part of the architecture. The +book fell. It fell open, and out came the Hippogriff. Then they saw +something struggling under the next page and lifted it, and out came a +megatherium. So they shut the book and built it into the wall again.' + +'But how did the megawhatsitsname and the Hippogriff come to be the +proper size?' + +'Ah! that's one of the eleven mysteries. Some sages suppose that the +country gave itself a sort of shake and everything settled down into +the size it ought to be. I think myself that it's the air. The moment +you breathe this enchanted air you become the right size. _You_ did, you +know.' + +'But why did they shut the book?' + +'It was a book of beasts. Who knows what might have come out next? A +tiger perhaps. And ravening for its prey as likely as not.' + +'I see,' said Philip; 'and of course beasts weren't really _needed_, +because of there being all the Noah's Ark ones.' + +'Yes,' said the parrot, 'so they shut the book.' + +'But the weather came out of books?' + +'That was another book, a poetry book. It had only one cover, so +everything that was on the last page got out naturally. We got a lot out +of that page, rain and sun and sky and clouds, mountains, gardens, +roses, lilies, flowers in general, "Blossoms of delight" they were +called in the book and trees and the sea, and the desert and silver and +iron--as much of all of them as anybody could possibly want. There are +no limits to poets' imaginations, you know.' + +'I see,' said Lucy, and took a large bite of cake. 'And where did you +come from, Polly, dear?' + +'I,' said the parrot modestly, 'came out of the same book as the +Hippogriff. We were on the same page. My wings entitled me to associate +with him, of course, but I have sometimes thought they just put me in as +a contrast. My smallness, his greatness; my red and green, his white.' + +'I see,' said Lucy again, 'and please will you tell us----' + +'Enough of this,' said the parrot; 'business before pleasure. You have +begun the day with the pleasures of my conversation. You will have to +work very hard to pay for this privilege.' + +So they washed up the breakfast things in warm water obligingly provided +by the camel. + +'And now,' said the parrot, 'we must pack up and go on our way to +destroy the fear of the Dwellers by the Sea.' + +'I wonder,' Brenda said to Max in an undertone, 'I wonder whether it +wouldn't be best for dear little dogs to lose themselves? We could turn +up later, and be so _very_ glad to be found.' + +'But why?' Max asked. + +'I've noticed,' said Brenda, sidling up to him with eager +affectionateness, 'that wherever there's fear there's something to be +afraid of, even if it's only your fancy. It would be dreadful for dear +little dogs to be afraid, Max, wouldn't it? So undignified.' + +'My dear,' said Max heavily, 'I could give seven noble reasons for being +faithful to our master. But I will only give you one. There is nothing +to eat in the desert, and nothing to drink.' + +'You always were so noble, dearest,' said Brenda; 'so different from +poor little me. I've only my affectionate nature. I know I'm only a +silly little thing.' + +So when the camel lurched forward and the parrot took wing, the dogs +followed closely. + +'Dear faithful things,' said Lucy. 'Brenda! Max! Nice dogs!' + +And the dogs politely responding, bounded enthusiastically. + +The journey was not long. Quite soon they found a sort of ravine or +gully in the cliff, and a path that led through it. And then they were +on the beach, very pebbly with small stones, and there was the home of +the Dwellers by the Sea; and beyond it, broad and blue and beautiful, +the sea by which they dwelt. + +The Dwelling seemed to be a sort of town of rounded buildings more like +lime-kilns than anything else, with arched doors leading to dark +insides. They were all built of tiny stones, such as lay on the beach. +Beyond the huts or houses towered the castle, a vast rough structure +with towers and arches and buttresses and bastions and glacis and +bridges and a great moat all round it. + +'But I never built a city like that, did you?' Lucy asked as they drew +near. + +'No,' Philip answered; 'at least--do you know, I do believe it's the +sand castle Helen and I built last summer at Dymchurch. And those huts +are the moulds I made of my pail--with the edges worn off, you know.' + +Towards the castle the travellers advanced, the camel lurching like a +boat on a rough sea, and the dogs going with cat-like delicacy over the +stones. They skirted large pools and tall rocks seaweed covered. Along a +road broad enough for twelve chariots to have driven on it abreast, +slowly they came to the great gate of the castle. And as they got +nearer, they saw at every window heads leaning out; every battlement, +every terrace, was crowded with figures. And when they were quite near, +by throwing their heads very far back, so that their necks felt quite +stiff for quite a long time afterwards, the children could see that all +those people seemed quite young, and seemed to have very odd and +delightful clothes--just a garment from shoulder to knee made, as it +seemed, of dark fur. + +[Illustration: Slowly they came to the great gate of the castle.] + +'What lots of them there are,' said Philip; 'where did they come from?' + +'Out of a book,' said the parrot; 'but the authorities were very prompt +that time. Only a line and a half got out. + + 'Happy troops + Of gentle islanders. + +Those are the islanders.' + +'Then why,' asked Philip naturally, 'aren't they on an island?' + +'There's only one island, and no one is allowed on that except two +people who never go there. But the islanders are happy even if they +don't live on an island--always happy, except for the great fear.' + +Here the travellers began to cross one of the bridges across the moat, +the bridge, in fact, which led to the biggest arch of all. It was a very +rough arch, like the entrance to a cave. + +And from out its dark mouth came a little crowd of people. + +'They're savages,' said Lucy, shrinking till she seemed only an extra +hump on the camel's back. + +They were indeed of a dark complexion, sunburnt in fact, but their faces +were handsome and kindly. They waved friendly hands and smiled in the +most agreeable and welcoming way. + +The tallest islander stepped out from the crowd. He was about as big as +Philip. + +'They're not savages,' said Philip; 'don't be a donkey. They're just +children.' + +'Hush!' said the parrot; 'the Lord High Islander is now about to begin +the state address of welcome!' + +He was. And this was the address. + +'How jolly of you to come. Do get down off that camel and come indoors +and have some grub. Jim, you might take that camel round to the stable +and rub him down a bit. You'd like to keep the dogs with you, of course. +And what about the parrot?' + +'Thanks awfully,' Philip responded, and slid off the camel, followed by +Lucy; 'the parrot will make his own mind up--he always does.' + +They all trooped into the hall of the castle which was more like a cave +than a hall and very dark, for the windows were little and high up. As +Lucy's eyes got used to the light she perceived that the clothes of the +islanders were not of skins but of seaweed. + +'I asked you in,' said the Lord High Islander, a jolly-looking boy of +about Philip's age, 'out of politeness. But really it isn't dinner time, +and the meet is in half an hour. So, unless you're really hungry----?' + +The children said 'Not at all!' + +'You hunt, of course?' the Lord High Islander said; 'it's really the +only sport we get here, except fishing. Of course we play games and all +that. I do hope you won't be dull.' + +'We came here on business,' the parrot remarked--and the happy islanders +crowded round to see him, remarking--'these are Philip and Lucy, +claimants to the Deliverership. They are doing their deeds, you know,' +the parrot ended. + +Lucy whispered, 'It's really _Philip_ who is the claimant, not me; only +the parrot's so polite.' + +The Lord High Islander frowned. 'We can talk about that afterwards,' he +said; 'it's a pity to waste time now.' + +'What do you hunt?' Philip asked. + +'All the different kinds of graibeeste and the vertoblancs; and the +blugraiwee, when we can find him,' said the Lord High Islander. 'But +he's very scarce. Pinkuggers are more common, and much bigger, of +course. Well, you'll soon see. If your camel's not quite fresh I can +mount you both. What kind of animal do you prefer?' + +'What do you ride?' Philip asked. + +It appeared that the Lord High Islander rode a giraffe, and Philip +longed to ride another. But Lucy said she would rather ride what she +was used to, thank you. + +When they got out into the courtyard of the castle, they found it full +of a crowd of animals, any of which you may find in the Zoo, or in your +old Noah's ark if it was a sufficiently expensive one to begin with, and +if you have not broken or lost too many of the inhabitants. Each animal +had its rider and the party rode out on to the beach. + +'What _is_ it they hunt?' Philip asked the parrot, who had perched on +his shoulder. + +'All the little animals in the Noah's ark that haven't any names,' the +parrot told him. 'All those are considered fair game. Hullo! +blugraiwee!' it shouted, as a little grey beast with blue spots started +from the shelter of a rock and made for the cover of a patch of giant +seaweed. Then all sorts of little animals got up and scurried off into +places of security. + +'There goes a vertoblanc,' said the parrot, pointing to a bright green +animal of uncertain shape, whose breast and paws were white, 'and +there's a graibeeste.' + +The graibeeste was about as big as a fox, and had rabbit's ears and the +unusual distinction of a tail coming out of his back just half-way +between one end of him and the other. But there are graibeestes of all +sorts and shapes. + +[Illustration: 'If your camel's not quite fresh I can mount you +both.'] + +You know when people are making the animals for Noah's arks they make +the big ones first, elephants and lions and tigers and so on, and paint +them as nearly as they can the right colours. Then they get weary of +copying nature and begin to paint the animals pink and green and +chocolate colour, which in nature is not the case. These are the +chockmunks, and vertoblancs and the pinkuggers. And presently the makers +get sick of the whole business and make the animals any sort of shape +and paint them all one grey--these are the graibeestes. And at the very +end a guilty feeling of having been slackers comes over the makers of +the Noah's arks, and they paint blue spots on the last and littlest of +the graibeestes to ease their consciences. This is the blugraiwee. + +'Tally Ho! Hark forrad! Yoicks!' were some of the observations now to be +heard on every side as the hunt swept on, the blugraiwee well ahead. +Dogs yapped, animals galloped, riders shouted, the sun shone, the sea +sparkled, and far ahead the blugraiwee ran, extended to his full length +like a grey straight line. He was killed five miles from the castle +after a splendid run. And when a pinkugger had been secured and half a +dozen graibeeste, the hunt rode slowly home. + +'We only hunt to kill and we only kill for food,' the Lord High Islander +said. + +'But,' said Philip, 'I thought Noah's ark animals turned into wood when +they were dead?' + +'Not if you kill for food. The intention makes all the difference. I had +a plum-cake intention when we put up the blugraiwee, the pinkugger I +made a bread and butter intention about, and the graibeestes I intended +for rice pudding and prunes and toffee and ices and all sorts of odd +things. So, of course, when we come to cut them up they'll _be_ what I +intended.' + +'I see,' said Philip, jogging along on his camel. 'I say,' he added, +'you don't mind my asking--how is it you're all children here?' + +'Well,' said the Lord High Islander, 'it's ancient history, so I don't +suppose it's true. But they say that when the government had to make +sure that we should always be _happy_ troops of gentle islanders, they +decided that the only way was for us to be children. And we do have the +most ripping time. And we do our own hunting and cooking and wash up our +own plates and things, and for heavy work we have the M.A.'s. They're +men who've had to work at sums and history and things at College so hard +that they want a holiday. So they come here and work for us, and if any +of us do want to learn anything, the M.A.'s are handy to have about the +place. It pleases them to teach anything, poor things. They live in the +huts. There's always a long list waiting for their turn. Oh yes, they +wear the seaweed dress the same as we do. And they hunt on Tuesdays, +Thursdays and Saturdays. They hunt big game, the fierce ambergris who is +grey with a yellow stomach and the bigger graibeestes. Now we'll have +dinner the minute we get in, and then we must talk about It.' + +The game was skinned and cut up in the courtyard, and the intentions of +the Lord High Islander had certainly been carried out. For the +blugraiwee was plum-cake, and the other animals just what was needed. + +And after dinner the Lord High Islander took Lucy and Philip up on to +the top of the highest tower, and the three lay in the sun eating toffee +and gazing out over the sea at the faint distant blue of the island. + +'The island where we aren't allowed to go,' as the Lord High Islander +sadly pointed out. + +'Now,' said Lucy gently, 'you won't mind telling us what you're afraid +of? Don't mind telling us. _We're_ afraid too; we're afraid of all sorts +of things quite often.' + +'Speak for yourself,' said Philip, but not unkindly. 'I'm not so jolly +often afraid as you seem to think. Go ahead, my Lord.' + +'You might as well call me Billy,' said the Lord High Islander; 'it's my +name.' + +'Well, Billy, then. What is it you're afraid of?' + +'I hate being afraid,' said Billy angrily. 'Of course I know no true boy +is afraid of anything except doing wrong. One of the M.A.'s told me +that. But the M.A.'s are afraid too.' + +'What of?' Lucy asked, glancing at the terrace below, where already the +shadows were lengthening; 'it'll be getting dark soon. I'd much rather +know what you're afraid of while it's daylight.' + +'What we're afraid of,' said Billy abruptly, 'is the sea. Suppose a +great wave came and washed away the castle, and the huts, and the M.A.'s +and all of us?' + +'But it never _has_, has it?' Lucy asked. + +'No, but everything must have a beginning. I know that's true, because +another of the M.A.'s told it me.' + +'But why don't you go and live somewhere inland?' + +'Because we couldn't live away from the sea. We're islanders, you know; +we couldn't bear not to be near the sea. And we'd rather be afraid of +it, than not have it to be afraid of. But it upsets the government, +because we ought to be _happy_ troops of gentle islanders, and you can't +be quite happy if you're afraid. That's why it's one of your deeds to +take away our fear.' + +'It sounds jolly difficult,' said Philip; 'I shall have to think,' he +added desperately. So he lay and thought with Max and Brenda asleep by +his side and the parrot preening its bright feathers on the parapet of +the tower, while Lucy and the Lord High Islander played cat's cradle +with a long thread of seaweed. + +'It's supper time,' said Billy at last. 'Have you thought of anything?' + +'Not a single thing,' said Philip. + +'Well, don't swat over it any more,' said Billy; 'just stay with us and +have a jolly time. You're sure to think of something. Or else Lucy will. +We'll act charades to-night.' + +They did. The rest of the islanders were an extremely jolly lot, and all +the M.A.'s came out of their huts to be audience. It was a charming +evening, and ended up with hide-and-seek all over the castle. + +To wake next morning on a bed of soft, dry, sweet-smelling seaweed, and +to know that the day was to be spent in having a good time with the +jolliest set of children she had ever met, was delightful to Lucy. +Philip's delight was dashed by the knowledge that he must, sooner or +later, _think_. But the day passed most agreeably. They all bathed in +the rock pools, picked up shell-fish for dinner, played rounders in the +afternoon, and in the evening danced to the music made by the M.A.'s who +most of them carried flutes in their pockets, and who were all very +flattered at being asked to play. + +So the pleasant days went on. Every morning Philip said to himself, 'Now +to-day I really _must_ think of something,' and every night he said, 'I +really ought to have thought of something.' But he never could think of +anything to take away the fear of the gentle islanders. + +It was on the sixth night that the storm came. The wind blew and the sea +roared and the castle shook to its very foundations. And Philip, +awakened by the noise and the shaking, sat up in bed and understood what +the fear was that spoiled the happiness of the Dwellers by the Sea. + +'Suppose the sea did sweep us all away,' he said; 'and they haven't even +got a boat.' + +And then, when he was quite far from expecting it, he did think of +something. And he went on thinking about it so hard that he couldn't +sleep any more. + +And in the morning he said to the parrot: + +'I've thought of something. And I'm not going to tell the others. But I +can't do it all by myself. Do you think you could get Perrin for me?' + +'I will try with pleasure,' replied the obliging bird, and flew off +without further speech. + +That afternoon, just as a picnic tea was ending, a great shadow fell on +the party, and next moment the Hippogriff alighted with Mr. Perrin and +the parrot on its back. + +'Oh, _thank_ you,' said Philip, and led Mr. Perrin away and began to +talk to him in whispers. + +'No, sir,' Mr. Perrin answered suddenly and aloud. 'I'm sorry, but I +couldn't think of it.' + +'Don't you know _how_?' Philip asked. + +'I know everything as is to be known in my trade,' said Mr. Perrin, 'but +carpentry's one thing, and manners is another. Not but what I know +manners too, which is why I won't be a party to no such a thing.' + +'But you don't understand,' said Philip, trying to keep up with Mr. +Perrin's long strides. 'What I want to do is for you to build a Noah's +ark on the top of the highest tower. Then when the sea's rough and the +wind blows, all the Sea-Dwellers can just get into their ark and then +they'll be quite safe whatever happens.' + +'You said all that afore,' said Mr. Perrin, 'and I wonder at you, so I +do.' + +'I thought it was _such_ a good idea,' said poor Philip in gloom. + +'Oh, the _idea's_ all right,' said Mr. Perrin; 'there ain't nothing to +complain of 'bout the _idea_.' + +'Then what _is_ wrong?' Philip asked impatiently. + +'You've come to the wrong shop,' said Mr. Perrin slowly. 'I ain't the +man to take away another chap's job, not if he was to be in the humblest +way of business; but when it comes to slapping the government in the +face, well, there, Master Pip, I wouldn't have thought it of you. It's +as much as my place is worth.' + +'Look here,' said Philip, stopping short in despair, 'will you tell me +straight out why you won't help me?' + +'I'm not a-going to go building arks, at my time of life,' said Mr. +Perrin. 'Mr. Noah'd break his old heart, so he would, if I was to take +on his job over his head.' + +'Oh, you mean I ought to ask him?' + +''Course you ought to ask him. I don't mind lending a hand under his +directions, acting as foreman like, so as to make a good job of it. But +it's him you must give your order to.' + +The parrot and the Hippogriff between them managed to get Mr. Noah to +the castle by noon of the next day. + +'Would you have minded,' Philip immediately asked him, 'if I'd had an +ark built without asking you to do it?' + +'Well,' said Mr. Noah mildly, 'I might have been a little hurt. I have +had some experience, you know, my Lord.' + +'Why do you call me that?' Philip asked. + +'Because you are, of course. Your deed of slaying the lions counts one +to you, and by virtue of it you are now a Baron. I congratulate you, +Lord Leo,' said Mr. Noah. + +He approved of Philip's idea, and he and Perrin were soon busy making +plans, calculating strains and selecting materials. + +Then Philip made a speech to the islanders and explained his idea. There +was a great deal of cheering and shouting, and every one agreed that an +ark on the topmost tower would meet a long-felt want, and that when once +that ark was there, fear would for ever be a stranger to every gentle +island heart. + +And now the great work of building began. Mr. Perrin kindly consented to +act as foreman and set to work a whole army of workmen--the M.A.'s of +course. And soon the sound of saw and hammer mingled with the plash of +waves and cries of sea-birds, and gangs of stalwart M.A.'s in their +seaweed tunics bent themselves to the task of shaping great timbers and +hoisting them to the top of the highest tower, where other gangs, under +Mr. Noah's own eye, reared a scaffolding to support the ark while the +building went on. + +The children were not allowed to help, but they loved looking on, and +almost felt that, if they looked on earnestly enough, they must, in some +strange mysterious way, be actually helping. You know the feeling, I +daresay. + +The Hippogriff, who was stabled in the castle, flew up to wherever he +was wanted, to assist in the hauling. Mr. Noah only had to whisper the +magic word in his ear and up he flew. But what that magic word was the +children did not know, though they asked often enough. + +And now at last the ark was finished, the scaffolding was removed, and +there was the great Noah's ark, firmly planted on the topmost tower. It +was a perfect example of the ark-builder's craft. Its boat part was +painted a dull red, its sides and ends were blue with black windows, and +its roof was bright scarlet, painted in lines to imitate tiles. No least +detail was neglected. Even to the white bird painted on the roof, which +you must have noticed in your own Noah's ark. + +[Illustration: They loved looking on.] + +A great festival was held, speeches were made, and every one who had +lent a hand in the building, even the humblest M.A., was crowned with +a wreath of fresh pink and green seaweed. Songs were sung, and the +laureate of the Sea-Dwellers, a young M.A. with pale blue eyes and no +chin, recited an ode beginning-- + + Now that we have our Noble Ark + No more we tremble in the dark + When the great seas and the winds cry out, + For we are safe without a doubt. + + At undue risings of the tide + Within our Ark we'll safely hide, + And bless the names of those who thus + Have built a painted Ark for us. + +There were three hundred and seventeen more lines, very much like these, +and every one said it was wonderful, and the laureate was a genius, and +how did he do it, and what brains, eh? and things like that. + +And Philip and Lucy had crowns too. The Lord High Islander made a vote +of thanks to Philip, who modestly replied that it was nothing, really, +and anybody could have done it. And a spirit of gladness spread about +among the company so that every one was smiling and shaking hands with +everybody else, and even the M.A.'s were making little polite old jokes, +and slapping each other on the back and calling each other 'old chap,' +which was not at all their habit in ordinary life. The whole castle was +decorated with garlands of pink and green seaweed like the wreaths that +people were wearing, and the whole scene was the gayest and happiest you +can imagine. + +And then the dreadful thing happened. + +Philip and Lucy were standing in their seaweed tunics, for of course +they had, since the first day, worn the costume of the country, on the +platform in the courtyard. Mr. Noah had just said, 'Well, then, we will +enjoy this enjoyable day to the very end and return to the city +to-morrow,' when a shadow fell on the group. It was the Hippogriff, and +on its back was--some one. Before any one could see who that some one +was, the Hippogriff had flown low enough for that some one to catch +Philip by his seaweed tunic and to swing him off his feet and on to the +Hippogriff's back. Lucy screamed, Mr. Perrin said, 'Here, I say, none of +that,' and Mr. Noah said, 'Dear me!' And they all reached out their +hands to pull Philip back. But they were all too late. + +'I won't go. Put me down,' Philip shouted. They all heard that. And also +they heard the answer of the person on the Hippogriff--the person who +had snatched Philip on to its back. + +'Oh, won't you, my Lord? We'll soon see about that,' the person said. + +Three people there knew that voice, four counting Philip, six counting +the dogs. The dogs barked and growled, Mr. Noah said 'Drop it;' and Lucy +screamed, 'Oh no! oh no! it's that Pretenderette.' The parrot, with +great presence of mind, flew up into the air and attacked the ear of the +Pretenderette, for, as old books say, it was indeed that unprincipled +character who had broken from prison and once more stolen the +Hippogriff. But the Pretenderette was not to be caught twice by the same +parrot. She was ready for the bird this time, and as it touched her ear +she caught it in her motor veil which she must have loosened beforehand, +and thrust it into a wicker cage that hung ready from the saddle of the +Hippogriff who hovered on his wide white wings above the crowd of faces +upturned. + +'Now we shall see her face,' Lucy thought, for she could not get rid of +the feeling that if she could only see the Pretenderette's face she +would recognise it. But the Pretenderette was too wily to look down +unveiled. She turned her face up, and she must have whispered the magic +word, for the Hippogriff rose in the air and began to fly away with +incredible swiftness across the sea. + +'Oh, what shall I do?' cried Lucy, wringing her hands. You have often +heard of people wringing their hands. Lucy, I assure you, really did +wring hers. 'Oh! Mr. Noah, what will she do with him? Where will she +take him? What shall I do? How can I find him again?' + +'I deeply regret, my dear child,' said Mr. Noah, 'that I find myself +quite unable to answer any single one of your questions.' + +'But can't I go after him?' Lucy persisted. + +'I am sorry to say,' said Mr. Noah, 'that we have no boats; the +Pretenderette has stolen our one and only Hippogriff, and none of our +camels can fly.' + +'But what can I _do_?' Lucy stamped her foot in her agony of impatience. + +'Nothing, my child,' Mr. Noah aggravatingly replied, 'except to go to +bed and get a good night's rest. To-morrow we will return to the city +and see what can be done. We must consult the oracle.' + +'But can't we go _now_,' said Lucy, crying. + +'No oracle is worth consulting till it's had its night's rest,' said Mr. +Noah. 'It is a three days' journey. If we started now--see it is already +dusk--we should arrive in the middle of the night. We will start early +in the morning.' + +But early in the morning there was no starting from the castle of the +Dwellers by the Sea. There was indeed no one to start, and there was no +castle to start from. + +A young blugraiwee, peeping out of its hole after a rather disturbed +night to see whether any human beings were yet stirring or whether it +might venture out in search of yellow periwinkles, which are its +favourite food, started, pricked its spotted ears, looked again, and, +disdaining the cover of the rocks, walked boldly out across the beach. +For the beach was deserted. There was no one there. No Mr. Noah, no +Lucy, no gentle islanders, no M.A.'s--and what is more there were no +huts and there was no castle. All was smooth, plain, bare sea-combed +beach. + +For the sea had at last risen. The fear of the Dwellers had been +justified. Whether the sea had been curious about the ark no one knows, +no one will ever know. At any rate the sea had risen up and swept away +from the beach every trace of the castle, the huts and the folk who had +lived there. + +A bright parrot, with a streamer of motor veiling hanging to one claw, +called suddenly from the clear air to the little blugraiwee. + +'What's up?' the parrot asked; 'where's everything got to?' + +'I don't know, I'm sure,' said the little blugraiwee; 'these human +things are always coming and going. Have some periwinkles? They're very +fine this morning after the storm,' it said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +UPS AND DOWNS + + +We left Lucy in tears and Philip in the grasp of the hateful +Pretenderette, who, seated on the Hippogriff, was bearing him away +across the smooth blueness of the wide sea. + +'Oh, Mr. Noah,' said Lucy, between sniffs and sobs, 'how _can_ she! You +_did_ say the Hippogriff could only carry one!' + +'One ordinary human being,' said Mr. Noah gently; 'you forget that dear +Philip is now an earl.' + +'But do you really think he's safe?' Lucy asked. + +'Yes,' said Mr. Noah. 'And now, dear Lucy, no more questions. Since your +arrival on our shores I have been gradually growing more accustomed to +being questioned, but I still find it unpleasant and fatiguing. Desist, +I entreat.' + +So Lucy desisted and every one went to bed, and, for crying is very +tiring, to sleep. But not for long. + +Lucy was awakened in her bed of soft dry seaweed by the sound of the +castle alarm bell, and by the blaring of trumpets and the shouting of +many voices. A bright light shone in at the window of her room. She +jumped up and ran to the window and leaned out. Below lay the great +courtyard of the castle, a moving sea of people on which hundreds of +torches seemed to float, and the sound of shouting rose in the air as +foam rises in the wind. + +'The Fear! The Fear!' people were shouting. 'To the ark! to the ark!' +And the black night that pressed round the castle was loud with the wild +roar of waves and the shriek of a tumultuous wind. + +Lucy ran to the door of her room. But suddenly she stopped. + +'My clothes,' she said. And dressed herself hastily. For she perceived +that her own petticoats and shoes were likely to have better wearing +qualities than seaweed could possess, and if they were all going to take +refuge in the ark, she felt she would rather have her own clothes on. + +'Mr. Noah is sure to come for me,' she most sensibly told herself. 'And +I'll get as many clothes on as I can.' Her own dress, of course, had +been left at Polistopolis, but the ballet dress would be better than the +seaweed tunic. When she was dressed she ran into Philip's room and +rolled his clothes into a little bundle and carried it under her arm as +she ran down the stairs. Half-way down she met Mr. Noah coming up. + +'Ah! you're ready,' he said; 'it is well. Do not be alarmed, my Lucy. +The tide is rising but slowly. There will be time for every one to +escape. All is in train, and the embarkation of the animals is even now +in progress. There has been a little delay in sorting the beasts into +pairs. But we are getting on. The Lord High Islander is showing +remarkable qualities. All the big animals are on board; the pigs were +being coaxed on as I came up. And the ant-eaters are having a late +supper. Do not be alarmed.' + +'I can't help being alarmed,' said Lucy, slipping her free hand into Mr. +Noah's, 'but I won't cry or be silly. Oh, I do wish Philip was here.' + +'Most unreasonable of girl children,' said Mr. Noah; 'we are in danger +and you wish him to be here to share it?' + +'Oh, we _are_ in danger, are we?' said Lucy quickly. 'I thought you said +I wasn't to be alarmed.' + +'No more you are,' said Mr. Noah shortly; 'of course you're in danger. +But there's me. And there's the ark. What more do you want?' + +'Nothing,' Lucy answered in a very small voice, and the two made their +way to a raised platform overlooking the long inclined road which led up +to the tower on which the ark had been built. A long procession toiled +slowly up it of animals in pairs, urged and goaded by the M.A.'s under +the orders of the Lord High Islander. + +The wild wind blew the flames of the torches out like golden streamers, +and the sound of the waves was like thunder on the shore. + +Down below other M.A.'s were busy carrying bales tied up in seaweed. +Seen from above the busy figures looked like ants when you kick into an +ant-hill and the little ant people run this way and that way and every +way about their little ant businesses. + +The Lord High Islander came in pale and serious, with all the calm +competence of Napoleon at a crisis. + +'Sorry to have to worry you, sir,' he said to Mr. Noah, 'but of course +your experience is invaluable just now. I can't remember what bears eat. +Is it hay or meat?' + +'It's buns,' said Lucy. 'I beg your pardon, Mr. Noah. Of course I ought +to have waited for you to say.' + +'In my ark,' said Mr. Noah, 'buns were unknown and bears were fed +entirely on honey, the providing of which kept our pair of bees fully +employed. But if you are sure bears _like_ buns we must always be +humane, dear Lucy, and study the natural taste of the animals in our +charge.' + +'They love them,' said Lucy. + +'Buns and honey,' said the Lord Islander; 'and what about bats?' + +'I don't know what bats eat,' said Mr. Noah; 'I believe it was settled +after some discussion that they don't eat cats. But what they _do_ eat +is one of the eleven mysteries. You had better let the bats fast.' + +'They _are_, sir,' said the Lord High Islander. + +'And is all going well? Shall I come down and lend a personal eye?' + +'I think I'm managing all right, sir,' said the Lord High Islander +modestly. 'You see it's a great honour for me. The M.A.'s are carrying +in the provisions, the boys are stowing them and also herding the +beasts. They are very good workers, sir.' + +'Are you frightened?' Lucy whispered, as he turned to go back to his +overseeing. + +[Illustration: A long procession toiled slowly up it of animals in +pairs.] + +'Not I,' said the Lord High Islander. 'Don't you understand that I've +been promoted to be Lord Vice-Noah of Polistarchia? And of course the +hearts of all Vice-Noahs are strangers to fear. But just think what a +difficult thing Fear would have been to be a stranger to if you and +Philip hadn't got us the ark!' + +'It was Philip's doing,' said Lucy; 'oh, _do_ you think he's all right?' + +'I think his heart is a stranger to fear, naturally,' said the Lord High +Islander, 'so he's certain to be all right.' + +When the last of the animals had sniffed and snivelled its way into the +ark--it was a porcupine with a cold in its head--the islanders, the +M.A.'s, Lucy and Mr. Noah followed. And when every one was in, the door +of the ark was shut from inside by an ingenious mechanical contrivance +worked by a more than usually intelligent M.A. + +You must not suppose that the inside of the ark was anything like the +inside of your own Noah's ark, where all the animals are put in anyhow, +all mixed together and wrong way up as likely as not. That, with live +animals and live people, would, as you will readily imagine, be quite +uncomfortable. The inside of the ark which had been built under the +direction of Mr. Noah and Mr. Perrin was not at all like that. It was +more like the inside of a big Atlantic liner than anything else I can +think of. All the animals were stowed away in suitable stalls, and there +were delightful cabins for all those for whom cabins were suitable. The +islanders and the M.A.'s retired to their cabins in perfect order, and +Lucy and Mr. Noah, Mr. Perrin and the Lord High Islander gathered in the +saloon, which was large and had walls and doors of inlaid +mother-of-pearl and pink coral. It was lighted by glass globes filled +with phosphorus collected by an ingenious process invented by another of +the M.A.'s. + +'And now,' said Mr. Noah, 'I beg that anxiety may be dismissed from +every mind. If the waters subside, they leave us safe. If they rise, as +I confidently expect them to do, our ark will float, and we still are +safe. In the morning I will take soundings and begin to steer a course. +We will select a suitable spot on the shore, land and proceed to the +Hidden Places, where we will consult the oracle. A little refreshment +before we retire for what is left of the night? A captain's biscuit +would perhaps not be inappropriate?' He took a tin from a locker and +handed it round. + +'That's A1, sir,' said the Lord High Islander, munching. 'What a head +you have for the right thing.' + +'All practice,' said Mr. Noah modestly. + +'Thank you,' said Lucy, taking a biscuit; 'I wish. . . .' + +The sentence was never finished. With a sickening suddenness the floor +of the saloon heaved up under their feet, a roaring surging battering +sound broke round them; the saloon tipped over on one side and the whole +party was thrown on the pink silk cushions of the long settee. A shudder +seemed to run through the ark from end to end, and 'What is it? Oh! what +is it?' cried Lucy as the ark heeled over the other way and the +unfortunate occupants were thrown on to the opposite set of cushions. +(It really _was_, now, rather like what you imagine the inside of your +Noah's ark must be when you put in Mr. Noah and his family and a few +hastily chosen animals and shake them all up together.) + +'It's the sea,' cried the Lord High Islander; 'it's the great Fear come +upon us! And I'm not afraid!' He drew himself up as well as he could in +his cramped position, with Mr. Noah's elbow pinning his shoulder down +and Mr. Perrin's boot on his ear. + +With a shake and a shiver the ark righted itself, and the floor of the +saloon got flat again. + +'It's all right,' said Mr. Perrin, resuming control of his boot; 'good +workmanship, it do tell. She ain't shipped a drop, Mr. Noah, sir.' + +'It's all right,' said Mr. Noah, taking his elbow to himself and +standing up rather shakily on his yellow mat. + + 'We're afloat, we're afloat + On the dark rolling tide; + The ark's water-tight + And the crew are inside. + + 'Up, up with the flag + Let it wave o'er the sea; + We're afloat, we're afloat-- + And what else should we be?' + +'_I_ don't know,' said Lucy; 'but there isn't any flag, is there?' + +'The principle's the same,' said Mr. Noah; 'but I'm afraid we didn't +think of a flag.' + +'_I_ did,' said Mr. Perrin; 'it's only a Jubilee hankey'--he drew it +slowly from his breast-pocket, a cotton Union Jack it was--'but it shall +wave all right. But not till daylight, I think, sir. Discretion's the +better part of--don't you think, Mr. Noah, sir? Wouldn't do to open the +ark out of hours, so to speak!' + +'Just so,' said Mr. Noah. 'One, two, three! Bed!' + +The ark swayed easily on a sea not too rough. The saloon passengers +staggered to their cabins. And silence reigned in the ark. + + * * * * * * + +I am sorry to say that the Pretenderette dropped the wicker cage +containing the parrot into the sea--an unpardonable piece of cruelty and +revenge; unpardonable, that is, unless you consider that she did not +really know any better. The Hippogriff's white wings swept on; Philip, +now laid across the knees of the Pretenderette (a most undignified +attitude for any boy, and I hope none of you may be placed in such a +position), screamed as the cage struck the water, and, 'Oh, Polly!' he +cried. + +'All right,' the parrot answered; 'keep your pecker up!' + +'What did it say?' the Pretenderette asked. + +'Something about peck,' said Philip upside down. + +'Ah!' said the Pretenderette with satisfaction, 'he won't do any more +pecking for some time to come.' And the wide Hippogriff wings swept on +over the wide sea. + +Polly's cage fell and floated. And it floated alone till the dawn, when, +with wheelings and waftings and cries, the gulls came from far and near +to see what this new strange thing might be that bobbed up and down in +their waters in the light of the new-born day. + +'Hullo!' said Polly in bird-talk, clinging upside down to the top bars +of the cage. + +'Hullo, yourself,' replied the eldest gull; 'what's up? And who are you? +And what are you doing in that unnatural lobster pot?' + +'I conjure you,' said the parrot earnestly, 'I conjure you by our common +birdhood to help me in my misfortune.' + +'No gull who _is_ a gull can resist that appeal,' said the master of the +sea birds; 'what can we do, brother-bird?' + +'The matter is urgent,' said Polly, but quite calmly. 'I am getting very +wet and I dislike salt water. It is bad for my plumage. May I give an +order to your followers, bird-brother?' + +'Give,' said the master gull, with a graceful wheel and whirl of his +splendid wings. + +'Let four of my brothers raise this detested trap high above the waves,' +said the parrot, 'and let others of you, with your brave strong beaks, +break through the bars and set me free.' + +'Delighted,' said the master gull; 'any little thing, you know,' and his +own high-bred beak was the first to take hold of the cage, which +presently the gulls lifted in the air and broke through, setting the +parrot free. + +'Thank you, brother-birds,' the parrot said, shaking wet wings and +spreading them; 'one good turn deserves another. The beach yonder was +white with cockles but yesterday.' + +'Thank you, brother-bird,' they all said, and flew fleetly cocklewards. + +And that was how the parrot got free from the cage and went back to the +shore to have that little talk with the blugraiwee which I told you +about in the last chapter. + + * * * * * * + +The ark was really very pleasant by daylight with the sun shining in at +its windows. The sun shone outside as well, of course, and the Union +Jack waved cheerfully in the wind. Breakfast was served on the terrace +at the end of the ark--you know--that terrace where the boat part turns +up. It was a very nice breakfast, and the sea was quite smooth--a quite +perfect sea. This was rather fortunate, for there was nothing else. Sea +on every side of the ark. No land at all. + +'However shall we find the way,' Lucy asked the Lord High Islander, +'with nothing but sea?' + +'Oh,' he answered, 'that's all the better, really. Mr. Noah steers much +better when there's no land in sight. It's all practice, you know.' + +'And when we come in sight of land, will he steer badly then?' + +'Oh, anybody can steer then,' said Billy; 'you if you like.' So it was +Lucy who steered the ark into harbour, under Mr. Noah's directions. Arks +are very easy to steer if you only know the way. Of course arks are not +like other vessels; they require neither sails nor steam engines, nor +oars to make them move. The very arkishness of the ark makes it move +just as the steersman wishes. He only has to say 'Port,' 'Starboard,' +'Right ahead,' 'Slow' and so on, and the ark (unlike many people I know) +immediately does as it is told. So steering was easy and pleasant; one +just had to keep the ark's nose towards the distant domes and pinnacles +of a town that shone and glittered on the shore a few miles away. And +the town grew nearer and nearer, and the black streak that was the +people of the town began to show white dots that were the people's +faces. And then the ark was moored against a quay side, and a friendly +populace cheered as Mr. Noah stepped on to firm land, to be welcomed by +the governor of the town and a choice selection of eminent citizens. + +'It's quite an event for them,' said Mr. Perrin. 'They don't have much +happening here. A very lazy lot they be, almost as bad as Somnolentia.' + +'What makes them lazy?' Lucy asked. + +'It's owing to the onions and potatoes growing wild in these parts, I +believe,' said the Lord High Islander. 'They get enough to eat without +working. And the onions make them sleepy.' + +They talked apart while Mr. Noah was arranging things with the Governor +of the town, who had come down to the harbour in a hurry and a flurry +and a furry gown. + +'I've arranged everything,' said Mr. Noah at last. 'The islanders and +the M.A.'s and the animals are to be allowed to camp in the public park +till we've consulted the oracle and decided what's to be done with them. +They must live somewhere, I suppose. Life has become much too eventful +for me lately. However there are only three more deeds for the Earl of +Ark to do, and then perhaps we shall have a little peace and quietness.' + +'The Earl of Ark?' Lucy repeated. + +'Philip, you know. I do wish you'd try to remember that he's an earl +now. Now you and I must take camel and be off.' + +And now came seven long days of camel travelling, through desert and +forest and over hill and through valley, till at last Lucy and Mr. Noah +came to the Hidden Place where the oracle is, and where that is I may +not tell you--because it's one of the eleven mysteries. And I must not +tell you what the oracle is because that is another of the mysteries. +But I may tell you that if you want to consult the oracle you have to go +a long way between rows of round pillars, rather like those in Egyptian +tombs. And as you go it gets darker and darker, and when it is quite +dark you see a little, little light a very long way off, and you hear +very far away, a beautiful music, and you smell the scent of flowers +that do not grow in any wood or field or garden of this earth. Mixed +with this scent is the scent of incense and of old tapestried rooms, +where no one has lived for a very long time. And you remember all the +sad and beautiful things you have ever seen or heard, and you fall down +on the ground and hide your face in your hands and call on the oracle, +and if you are the right sort of person the oracle answers you. + +Lucy and Mr. Noah waited in the dark for the voice of the oracle, and at +last it spoke. Lucy heard no words, only the most beautiful voice in the +world speaking softly, and so sweetly and finely and bravely that at +once she felt herself brave enough to dare any danger, and strong enough +to do any deed that might be needed to get Philip out of the clutches of +the base Pretenderette. All the tiredness of her long journey faded +away, and but for the thought that Philip needed her, she would have +been content to listen for ever to that golden voice. Everything else in +the world faded away and grew to seem worthless and unmeaning. Only the +soft golden voice remained and the grey hard voice that said, 'You've +got to look after Philip, you know!' And the two voices together made a +harmony more beautiful than you will find in any of Beethoven's sonatas. +Because Lucy knew that she should follow the grey voice, and remember +the golden voice as long as she lived. + +But something was tiresomely pulling at her sleeve, dragging her away +from the wonderful golden voice. Mr. Noah was pulling her sleeve and +saying, 'Come away,' and they turned their backs on the little light and +the music and the enchanting perfumes, and instantly the voice stopped +and they were walking between dusky pillars towards a far grey speck of +sunlight. + +It was not till they were once more under the bare sky that Lucy said: + +'What did it say?' + +'You must have heard,' said Mr. Noah. + +'I only heard the voice and what it meant. I didn't understand the +words. But the voice was like dreams and everything beautiful I've ever +thought of.' + +'I thought it a wonderfully straight-forward business-like oracle,' +said Mr. Noah briskly; 'and the voice was quite distinct and I remember +every word it said.' + +(Which just shows how differently the same thing may strike two people.) + +'What did it say?' Lucy asked, trotting along beside him, still +clutching Philip's bundle, which through all these days she had never +let go. + +And Mr. Noah gravely recited the following lines. I agree with him that, +for an oracle, they were extremely straightforward. + + 'You had better embark + Once again in the Ark, + And sailing from dryland + Make straight for the Island.' + +'Did it _really_ say that?' Lucy asked. + +'Of course it did,' said Mr. Noah; 'that's a special instruction to me, +but I daresay you heard something quite different. The oracle doesn't +say the same thing to every one, of course. Didn't you get any special +instruction?' + +'Only to try to be brave and good,' said Lucy shyly. + +'Well, then,' said Mr. Noah, 'you carry out your instructions and I'll +carry out mine.' + +'But what's the use of going to the island if you can't land when you +get there?' Lucy insisted. 'You know only two people can land there, +and we're not them, are we?' + +'Oh, if you begin asking what's the use, we shan't get anywhere,' said +Mr. Noah. 'And more than half the things you say are questions.' + + * * * * * * + +I'm sorry this chapter is cut up into bits with lines of stars, but +stars are difficult to avoid when you have to tell about a lot of +different things happening all at once. That is why it is much better +always to keep your party together if you can. And I have allowed mine +to get separated so that Philip, the parrot and the rest of the company +are going through three sets of adventures all at the same time. This is +most trying for me, and fully accounts for the stars. Which I hope +you'll excuse. However. + +We now come back by way of the stars to Philip wrong way up in +the clutches of the Pretenderette. She had breathed the magic word +in the Hippogriff's ear, but she had not added any special order. +So the Hippogriff was entirely its own master as far as the choice +of where it was to go was concerned. It tossed its white mane after +circling three times between air and sky, made straight for the +Island-where-you-mayn't-go. The Pretenderette didn't know that it was +the Island-where-you-mayn't-go, and as they got nearer and she could +see plainly its rainbow-coloured sands, its palms and its waterfalls, +its cool green thickets and many tinted flowers and glowing fruits, it +seemed to her that she might do worse than land there and rest for a +little while. For even the most disagreeable people get tired +sometimes, and the Pretenderette had had a hard day of it. So she made +no attempt to check the Hippogriff or alter its course. And when the +Hippogriff was hovering but a few inches from the grass of the most +beautiful of the island glades, she jerked Philip roughly off her knee +and he fell all in a heap on the ground. With great presence of mind +our hero--if he isn't a hero by now he never will be--picked himself +up and bolted into the bushes. No rabbit could have bolted more +instantly and fleetly. + +'I'll teach you,' said the furious Pretenderette, preparing to alight. +She looked down to find a soft place to jump on. And then she saw that +every blade of grass was a tiny spear of steel, and every spear was +pointed at her. She made the Hippogriff take her to another glade--more +little steel spears. To the rainbow sands--but on looking at them she +saw that they were quivering quicksands. Wherever green grass had grown +the spears now grew; and wherever the sand was it was a terrible trap of +quicksand. She tried to dismount in a little pool, but fortunately for +her she noticed in time that what shone in it so silvery was not water +but white-hot molten metal. + +'What a nasty place,' said the Pretenderette; 'I don't know that I could +have chosen a nastier place to leave that naughty child in. He'll know +who's master by the time I send to fetch him back to prison. Here, you, +get back to Polistopolis as fast as you can. See? Please, I mean,' she +added, and then she spoke the magic word. + +Philip was peeping through the bushes close by, and he heard that magic +word (I dare not tell you what it is) and he saw for the first time the +face of the Pretenderette. And he trembled and shivered in his bushy +lurking-place. For the Pretenderette was the only really unpleasant +person Philip had ever met in the world. It was Lucy's nurse, the nurse +with the grey dress and the big fat feet, who had been so cross to him +and had pulled down his city. + +'How on earth,' Philip wondered to himself, 'did she get _here_? And how +on earth shall I get away from her?' He had not seen the spears and the +quicksands and the molten metal, and he was waiting unhappily for her to +alight, and for a game of hide and seek to begin, which he was not at +all anxious to play. + +Even as he wondered, the Hippogriff spread wings and flew away. And +Philip was left alone on the island. But what did that matter? It was +much better to be alone than with that Pretenderette. And for Philip +there were no white-hot metal and spears and snares of quicksand, only +dewy grass and sweet flowers and trees and safety and delight. + +'If only Lucy were here,' he said. + +When he was quite sure that the Pretenderette was really gone, he came +out and explored the island. It had on it every kind of flower and fruit +that you can think of, all growing together. There were gold oranges and +white orange flowers, pink apple-blossom and red apples, cherries and +cherry-blossom, strawberry flowers and strawberries, all growing +together, wild and sweet. + +At the back of his mind Philip remembered that he had, at some time or +other, heard of an island where fruit and blossoms grew together at the +same time, but that was all he could remember. He passed through the +lovely orchards and came to a lake. It was frozen. And he remembered +that, in the island he had heard of, there was a lake ready for skating +even when the flowers and fruit were on the trees. Then he came to a +little summer-house built all of porcupine quills like Helen's pen-box. + +And then he knew. All these wonders were on the island that he and Helen +had invented long ago--the island that she used to draw maps of. + +'It's our very own island,' he said, and a glorious feeling of being at +home glowed through him, warm and delightful. 'We said no one else might +come here! That's why the Pretenderette couldn't land. And why they call +it the Island-where-you-mayn't-go. I'll find the bun tree and have +something to eat, and then I'll go to the boat-house and get out the +_Lightning Loose_ and go back for Lucy. I do wish I could bring her +here. But of course I can't without asking Helen.' + +The _Lightning Loose_ was the magic yacht Helen had invented for the +island. + +He soon found a bush whose fruit was buns, and a jam-tart tree grew near +it. You have no idea how nice jam tarts can taste till you have gathered +them yourself, fresh and sticky, from the tree. They are as sticky as +horse-chestnut buds, and much nicer to eat. + +As he went towards the boat-house he grew happier and happier, +recognising, one after the other, all the places he and Helen had +planned and marked on the map. He passed by the marble and gold house +with _King's Palace_ painted on the door. He longed to explore it: but +the thought of Lucy drove him on. As he went down a narrow leafy +woodland path towards the boat-house, he passed the door of the dear +little thatched cottage (labelled _Queen's Palace_) which was the house +Helen had insisted that she liked best for her very own. + +'How pretty it is; I wish Helen was here,' he said; 'she helped to make +it. I should never have thought of it without her. She ought to be +here,' he said. With that he felt very lonely, all of a sudden, and very +sad. And as he went on, wondering whether in all this magic world there +might not somehow be some magic strong enough to bring Helen there to +see the island that was their very own, and to give her consent to his +bringing Lucy to it, he turned a corner in the woodland path, and walked +straight into the arms of--Helen. + +[Illustration: Walked straight into the arms of Helen.] + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +ON THE 'LIGHTNING LOOSE' + + +'But how did you get here?' said Philip in Helen's arms on the island. + +'I just walked out at the other side of a dream,' she said; 'how could I +not come, when the door was open and you wanted me so?' + +And Philip just said, 'Oh, Helen!' He could not find any other words, +but Helen understood. She always did. + +'Come,' she said, 'shall we go to your Palace or mine? I want my supper, +and we'll have our own little blue-and-white tea-set. Yes, I know you've +had your supper, but it'll be fun getting mine, and perhaps you'll be +hungry again before we've got it.' + +They went to the thatched cottage that was Helen's palace, because +Philip had had almost as much of large buildings as he wanted for a +little while. The cottage had a wide chimney and an open hearth; and +they sat on the hearth and made toast, and Philip almost forgot that he +had ever had any adventures and that the toast was being made on a +hearth whose blue wood-smoke curled up among the enchanting tree-tops of +a magic island. + +And before they went to bed he had told her all about everything. + +'Oh, I am so glad you came!' he said over and over again; 'it is so easy +to tell you _here_, with all the magic going on. I don't think I ever +_could_ have told you at the Grange with the servants all about, and +the--I mean Mr. Graham, and all the things as not magic as they could +possibly be. Oh, Helen! where _is_ Mr. Graham; won't he hate your coming +away from him?' + +'He's gone through a dream door too,' she said, 'to see Lucy. Only he +doesn't know he's really gone. He'll think it's a dream, and he'll tell +me about it when we both wake up.' + +'When did you go to sleep?' said Philip. + +'At Brussels. That telegram hasn't come yet.' + +'I don't understand about time,' said Philip firmly, 'and I never shall. +I say, Helen, I was just looking for the _Lightning Loose_, to go off in +her on a voyage of discovery and find Lucy.' + +'I don't think you need,' she said; 'I met a parrot on the island just +before I met you and it was saying poetry to itself.' + +'It would be,' said Philip, 'if it was alive. I'm glad it _is_ alive, +though. What was it saying?' + +'It was something like this,' she said, putting a log of wood on the +fire: + + 'Philip and Helen + Have the island to dwell in, + Hooray. + They said of the island, + "It's your land and my land!" + Hooray. Hooray. Hooray. + + 'And till the ark + Comes out of the dark + There those two may stay + For a happy while, and + Enjoy their island + Until the Giving Day. + Hooray. + + 'And then they will hear the giving voice, + They will hear and obey, + And when people come + Who need a home, + They'll give the island away. + Hooray. + + 'The island with flower + And fruit and bower, + Forest and river and bay, + Their very own island + They'll sigh and smile and + They'll give their island away.' + +'What nonsense!' said Philip, 'I never will.' + +'All right, my Pipkin,' said Helen cheerfully; 'I only told you just to +show that you're expected to stay here. "Philip and Helen have the +island to dwell in." And now, what about bed?' + +They spent a whole week on the island. It was exactly all that they +could wish an island to be; because, of course, they had made it +themselves, and of course they knew exactly what they wanted. I can't +describe that week. I only know that Philip will never forget it. Just +think of all the things you could do on a magic island if you were there +with your dearest dear, and you'll know how Philip spent his time. + +He enjoyed every minute of every hour of every day, and, best thing of +all, that week made him understand, as nothing else could have done, +that Helen still belonged to him, and that her marriage to Mr. Graham +had not made her any the less Philip's very own Helen. + +And then came a day when Philip, swinging in a magnolia tree, looked out +to sea and cried out, 'A sail! a sail! Oh, Helen, here's the ark! Now +it's all over. Let's have Lucy to stay with us, and send the other +people away,' he added, sliding down the tree-trunk with his face very +serious. + +'But we can't, dear,' Helen reminded him. 'The island's ours, you know; +and as long as it's ours no one else can land on it. We made it like +that, you know.' + +'Then they can't land?' + +'No,' said Helen. + +'Can't we change the rule and let them land?' + +'No,' said Helen. + +'Oh, it _is_ a pity,' Philip said; 'because the island is the place for +islanders, isn't it?' + +'Yes,' said Helen, 'and there's no fear of the sea here; you remember we +made it like that when we made the island?' + +'Yes,' said Philip. 'Oh, Helen, I _don't_ want to.' + +'Then don't,' said Helen. + +'Ah, but I _do_ want to, too.' + +'Then do,' said she. + +'But don't you see, when you want to and don't want to at the same time, +what _are_ you to do? There are so many things to think of.' + +'When it's like that, there's one thing you mustn't think of,' she said. + +'What?' Philip asked. + +'Yourself,' she said softly. + +There was a silence, and then Philip suddenly hugged his sister and she +hugged him. + +'I'll give it to them,' he said; 'it's no use. I know I ought to. I +shall only be uncomfortable if I don't.' + +Helen laughed. 'My boy of boys!' she said. And then she looked sad. 'Boy +of my heart,' she said, 'you know it's not only giving up our island. If +we give it away I must go. It's the only place that there's a door into +out of my dreams.' + +'I can't let you go,' he said. + +'But you've got your deeds to do,' she said, 'and I can't help you in +those. Lucy can help you, but I can't. You like Lucy now, don't you?' + +'Oh, I don't mind her,' said Philip; 'but it's _you_ I want, Helen.' + +'Don't think about that,' she urged. 'Think what the islanders want. +Think what it'll be to them to have the island, to live here always, +safe from the fear!' + +'There are three more deeds,' said Philip dismally; 'I don't think I +shall ever want any more adventures as long as I live.' + +'You'll always want them,' she said, laughing at him gently, 'always. +And now let's do the thing handsomely and give them a splendid welcome. +Give me a kiss and then we'll gather heaps of roses.' + +So they kissed each other. But Philip was very unhappy indeed, though +he felt that he was being rather noble and that Helen thought so too, +which was naturally a great comfort. + +There had been a good deal more of this talk than I have set down. +Philip and Helen had hardly had time to hang garlands of pink roses +along the quayside where the _Lightning Loose_, that perfect yacht, lay +at anchor, before the blunt prow of the ark bumped heavily against the +quayside--and the two, dropping the rest of the roses, waved and smiled +to the group on the ark's terrace. + +The first person to speak was Mr. Perrin, who shouted, 'Here we are +again!' like a clown. + +Then Lucy said, 'We know we can't land, but the oracle said come and we +came.' She leaned over the bulwark to whisper, 'Who's that perfect duck +you've got with you?' + +Philip answered aloud: + +'This is my sister Helen--Helen this is Lucy.' + +The two looked at each other, and then Helen held out her hands and she +and Lucy kissed each other. + +'I knew I should like you,' Lucy whispered, 'but I didn't know I should +like you quite so much.' + +Mr. Noah and Mr. Perrin were both bowing to Helen, a little stiffly but +very cordially all the same, and quite surprisingly without surprise. +And the Lord High Islander was looking at her with his own friendly +jolly schoolboy grin. + +'If you will embark,' said Mr. Noah politely, 'we can return to the +mainland, and I will explain to you your remaining deeds.' + +'Tell them, Pip,' said Helen. + +'We don't want to embark--at present,' said Philip shyly. 'We want you +to land.' + +'No one may land on the island save two,' said Mr. Noah. 'I am glad you +are the two. I feared one of the two might be the Pretenderette.' + +'Not much,' said Philip. 'It's Helen's and mine. We made it. And we want +to give it to the islanders to keep. For their very own,' he added, +feeling that it would be difficult for any one to believe that such a +glorious present was really being made just like that, without speeches, +as if it had been a little present of a pencil sharpener or a peg-top. + +He was right. + +'To keep?' said the Lord High Islander; 'for our very own? Always?' + +'Yes,' said Philip. 'And there's no fear here. You'll _really_ be "happy +troops" now.' + +For a moment nobody said anything, though all the faces were +expressive. Then the Lord High Islander spoke. + +'Well,' he said, 'of all the brickish bricks----' and could say no more. + +'There are lots of houses,' said Philip, 'and room for all the animals, +and the island is thirty miles round, so there's lots of room for the +animals and everything.' He felt happier than he had ever done in his +life. Giving presents is always enjoyable, and this was such a big and +beautiful present, and he loved it so. + +'I always did say Master Pip was a gentleman, and I always shall,' Mr. +Perrin remarked. + +'I congratulate you,' said Mr. Noah, 'and I am happy to announce that +your fifth deed is now accomplished. You remember our empty silver +fruit-dishes? Your fifth deed was to be the supplying of Polistarchia +with fruit. This island is the only place in the kingdom where fruit +grows. The ark will serve to convey the fruit to the mainland, and the +performance of this deed raises you to the rank of Duke.' + +'Philip, you're a dear,' said Lucy in a whisper. + +'Shut up,' said Philip fiercely. + +'Three cheers,' said a familiar voice, 'for the Duke of Donors.' + +'Three cheers,' repeated the Lord High Islander, 'for the Duke of +Donors.' + +What a cheer! All the islanders cheered and the M.A.'s and Lucy and Mr. +Perrin and Mr. Noah, and from the inside of the ark came enthusiastic +barkings and gruntings and roarings and squeakings--as the animals of +course joined in as well as they could. Thousands of gulls, circling on +white wings in the sun above, added their screams to the general chorus. +And when the sound of the last cheer died away, a little near familiar +voice said: + +'Well done, Philip! I'm proud of you.' + +It was the parrot who, perched on the rigging of the _Lightning Loose_, +had started the cheering. + +'So that's all right,' it said, fluttered on to Philip's shoulder and +added, 'I've heard you calling for me on the island all the week. But I +felt I needed a rest. I've been talking too much. And that +Pretenderette. And that cage. I assure you I needed a little time to get +over my adventures.' + +'We have all had our adventures,' said Mr. Noah gently. And Helen said: + +'Won't you land and take possession of the island? I'm sure we are +longing to hear each other's adventures.' + +'You first,' said Mr. Noah to the Lord High Islander, who stepped ashore +very gravely. + +When Helen saw him come forward, she suddenly kissed Philip, and as the +Lord High Islander's foot touched the shore of that enchanted island, +she simply and suddenly vanished. + +'Oh!' cried Philip, 'I wish I hadn't.' And his mouth trembled as girls' +mouths do if they are going to cry. + +'The more a present costs you, the more it's worth,' said Mr. Noah. +'This has cost you so much, it's the most splendid present in the +world.' + +'I know,' said Philip; 'make yourselves at home, won't you?' he just +managed to say. And then he found he could not say any more. He just +turned and went into the forest. And when he was alone in a green glade, +he flung himself down on his face and lay a long time without moving. It +had been such a happy week. And he was so tired of adventures. + +When at last he sniffed with an air of finality and raised his head, the +first thing he saw was Lucy, sitting quite still with her back to him. + +'Hullo!' he said rather crossly, 'what are you doing here?' + +'Saying the multiplication table,' said Lucy promptly and turned her +head, 'so as not even to think about you. And I haven't even once +turned round. I knew you wanted to be alone. But I wanted to be here +when you'd done being alone. See? I've got something to say to you.' + +'Fire ahead,' said Philip, still grumpy. + +'I think you're perfectly splendid,' said Lucy very seriously, 'and I +want it to be real pax for ever. And I'll help you in the rest of the +adventures. And if you're cross, I'll try not to mind. Napoleon was +cross sometimes, I believe,' she added pensively, 'and Julius Caesar.' + +'Oh, that's all right,' said Philip very awkwardly. + +'Then we're going to be real chums?' + +'Oh yes, if you like. Only--I don't mind just this once; and it was +decent of you to come and sit there with your back to me--only I hate +gas.' + +'Yes,' said Lucy obediently, 'I know. Only sometimes you feel you must +gas a little or burst of admiration. And I've got your proper clothes in +a bundle. I've been carrying them about ever since the islanders' castle +was washed away. Here they are.' + +She produced the bundle. And this time Philip was really touched. + +'Now I _do_ call that something like,' he said. 'The seaweed dress is +all right here, but you never know what you may have to go through when +you're doing adventures. There might be thorns or snakes or anything. +I'm jolly glad to get my boots back too. I say, come on. Let's go to +Helen's palace and get a banquet ready. I know there'll have to be a +banquet. There always is, here. I know a first-rate bun-tree quite near +here.' + +'The cocoa-nut-ice plants looked beautiful as I came along,' said Lucy. +'What a lovely island it is. And you made it!' + +'No gas,' said Philip warningly. 'Helen and I made it.' + +'She's the dearest darling,' said Lucy. + +'Oh, well,' said Philip with resignation, 'if you must gas, gas about +her.' + +The banquet was all that you can imagine of interesting and magnificent. +And Philip was, of course, the hero of the hour. And when the banquet +was finished and the last guest had departed to its own house--for the +houses on the island were of course all ready to be occupied, furnished +to the last point of comfort, with pin-cushions full of pins in every +room, Mr. Noah and Lucy and Philip sat down on the terrace steps among +the pink roses for a last little talk. + +'Because,' said Philip, 'we shall start the first thing in the morning. +So please will you tell me now what the next deed is that I have to +do?' + +'Will you go by ark?' Mr. Noah asked, rolling up his yellow mat to make +an elbow rest and leaning on it; 'I shall be delighted.' + +'I thought,' said Philip, 'we might go in the _Lightning Loose_. I've +never sailed her yet, you know. Do you think I _could_?' + +'Of course you can,' said Mr. Noah; 'and if not, Lucy can show you. Your +charming yacht is steered on precisely the same principle as the ark. +And in this land all the winds are favourable. You will find the yacht +suitably provisioned. And I may add that you can go most of the way to +your next deed by water--first the sea and then the river.' + +'And what,' asked Philip, 'is the next deed?' + +'In the extreme north of Polistarchia,' said Mr. Noah instructively, +'lies a town called Somnolentia. It used to be called Briskford in +happier days. A river then ran through the town, a rapid river that +brought much gold from the mountains. The people used to work very hard +to keep the channel clear of the lumps of gold which continually +threatened to choke it. Their fields were then well-watered and +fruitful, and the inhabitants were cheerful and happy. But when the +Hippogriff was let out of the book, a Great Sloth got out too. Evading +all efforts to secure him, the Great Sloth journeyed northward. He is a +very large and striking animal, and by some means, either fear or +admiration, he obtained a complete ascendancy over the inhabitants of +Briskford. He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold, and +while they were doing this the river bed became choked up and the stream +was diverted into another channel far from the town. Since then the +place is fallen into decay. The fields are parched and untilled. Such +water as the people need for drinking is drawn by great labour from a +well. Washing has become shockingly infrequent.' + +'Are we to teach the dirty chaps to wash?' asked Philip in disgust. + +'Do not interrupt,' said Mr. Noah. 'You destroy the thread of my +narrative. Where was I?' + +'Washing infrequent,' said Lucy; 'but if the fields are dried up, what +do they live on?' + +'Pine-apples,' replied Mr. Noah, 'which grow freely and do not need much +water. Gathering these is the sole industry of this degraded people. +Pine-apples are not considered a fruit but a vegetable,' he added +hastily, seeing another question trembling on Philip's lips. 'Whatever +of their waking time can be spared from the gathering and eating of the +pine-apples is spent in singing choric songs in honour of the Great +Sloth. And even this time is short, for such is his influence on the +Somnolentians that when he sleeps they sleep too, and,' added Mr. Noah +impressively, 'he sleeps almost all the time. Your deed is to devise +some means of keeping the Great Sloth awake and busy. And I think you've +got your work cut out. When you've disposed of the Great Sloth you can +report yourself to me here. I shall remain here for some little time. I +need a holiday. The parrot will accompany you. It knows its way about as +well as any bird in the land. Good-night. And good luck! You will excuse +my not being down to breakfast.' + +And the next morning, dewy-early, Philip and Lucy and the parrot went +aboard the yacht and loosed her from her moorings, and Lucy showed +Philip how to steer, and the parrot sat on the mast and called out +instructions. + +They made for the mouth of a river. ('I never built a river,' said +Philip. 'No,' said the parrot, 'it came out of the poetry book.') And +when they were hungry they let down the anchor and went into the cabin +for breakfast. And two people sprang to meet them, almost knocking +Lucy down with the violence of their welcome. The two people were Max +and Brenda. + +[Illustration: He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold.] + +'Oh, you dear dogs,' Lucy cried, and Philip patted them, one with each +hand, 'how did you get here?' + +'It was a little surprise of Mr. Noah's,' said the parrot. + +Max and Brenda whined and barked and gushed. + +'I wish we could understand what they're saying,' said Lucy. + +'If you only knew the magic word that the Hippogriff obeys,' said the +parrot, 'you could say it, and then you'd understand all animal talk. +Only, of course, I mustn't tell it you. It's one of the eleven +mysteries.' + +'But I know it,' said Philip, and at once breathed the word in the tiny +silky ear of Brenda and then in the longer silkier ear of Max, and +instantly-- + +'Oh, my dears!' they heard Brenda say in a softly shrill excited voice; +'oh, my dearie dears! We _are_ so pleased to see you. I'm only a poor +little faithful doggy; I'm not clever, you know, but my affectionate +nature makes me almost mad with joy to see my dear master and mistress +again.' + +'Very glad to see you, sir,' said Max with heavy politeness. 'I hope +you'll be comfortable here. There's no comfort for a dog like being with +his master.' + +And with that he sat down and went to sleep, and the others had +breakfast. It is rather fun cooking in yachts. And there was something +new and charming in Brenda's delicate way of sitting up and begging and +saying at the same time, 'I do _hate_ to bother my darling master and +mistress, but if you _could_ spare another _tiny_ bit of bacon--Oh, +_thank you_, how good and generous you are!' + +They sailed the yacht successfully into the river which presently ran +into the shadow of a tropical forest. Also out of a book. + +'You might go on during the night,' said the parrot, 'if the dogs would +steer under my directions. You could tie one end of a rope to their +collars and another to the helm. It's easier than turning spits.' + +'Delighted!' said Max; 'only, of course, it's understood that we sleep +through the day?' + +'Of course,' said everybody. So that was settled. And the children went +to bed. + +It was in the middle of the night that the parrot roused Philip with his +usual gentle beak-touch. Then-- + +'Wake up,' it said; 'this is not the right river. It's not the right +direction. Nothing's right. The ship's all wrong. I'm very much afraid +some one has been opening a book and this river has got out.' + +Philip hurried out on deck, and by the light of the lamps from the +cabin, gazed out at the banks of the river. At least he looked for them. +But there weren't any banks. Instead, steep and rugged cliffs rose on +each side, and overhead, instead of a starry sky, was a great arched +roof of a cavern glistening with moisture and dark as a raven's +feathers. + +'We must turn back,' said Philip. 'I don't like this at all.' + +'Unfortunately,' said the parrot, 'there is no room to turn back, and +the _Lightning Loose_ is not constructed for going backwards.' + +'Oh, dear,' whispered Brenda, 'I wish we hadn't come. Dear little dogs +ought to be taken comfortable care of and not be sent out on nasty ships +that can't turn back when it's dangerous.' + +'My dear,' said Max with slow firmness, 'dear little dogs can't help +themselves now. So they had better look out for chances of helping their +masters.' + +'But what can we _do_, then?' said Philip impatiently. + +'I fear,' said the parrot, 'that we can do nothing but go straight on. +If this river is in a book it will come out somewhere. No river in a +book ever runs underground and stays there.' + +'I shan't wake Lucy,' said Philip; 'she might be frightened.' + +'You needn't,' said Lucy, 'she's awake, and she's no more frightened +than you are.' + +('You hear that,' said Max to Brenda; 'you take example by her, my +dear!') + +'But if we are going the wrong way, we shan't reach the Great Sloth,' +Lucy went on. + +'Sooner or later, one way or another, we shall come to him,' said the +parrot; 'and time is of no importance to a Great Sloth.' + +It was now very cold, and our travellers were glad to wrap themselves in +the flags of all nations with which the yacht was handsomely provided. +Philip made a sort of tabard of the Union Jack and the old Royal Arms of +England, with the lilies and leopards; and Lucy wore the Japanese flag +as a shawl. She said the picture of the sun on it made her feel warm. +But Philip shivered under his complicated crosses and lions, as the +_Lightning Loose_ swept on over the dark tide between the dark walls and +under the dark roof of the cavern. + +'Cheer up,' said the parrot. 'Think what a lot of adventures you're +having that no one else has ever had: think what a lot of things you'll +have to tell the other boys when you go to school.' + +'The other boys wouldn't believe a word of it,' said Philip in gloom. 'I +wouldn't unless I knew it was true.' + +'What I think is,' said Lucy, watching the yellow light from the lamps +rushing ahead along the roof, 'that we shan't want to tell people. It'll +be just enough to know it ourselves and talk about it, just Philip and +me together.' + +'Well, as to that----' the parrot was beginning doubtfully, when he +broke off to exclaim: + +'Do my claws deceive me or is there a curious vibration, and noticeable +acceleration of velocity?' + +'Eh?' said Philip, which is not manners, and he knew it. + +'He means,' said Max stolidly, 'aren't we going rather fast and rather +wobbly?' + +We certainly were. The _Lightning Loose_ was going faster and faster +along that subterranean channel, and every now and then gave a lurch and +a shiver. + +'Oh!' whined Brenda; 'this is a dreadful place for dear little dogs!' + +'Philip!' said Lucy in a low voice, 'I know something is going to +happen. Something dreadful. We _are_ friends, aren't we?' + +'Yes,' said Philip firmly. + +'Then I wish you'd kiss me.' + +'I can like you just as much without that,' said Philip uneasily. +'Kissing people--it's silly, don't you think?' + +'Nobody's kissed me since daddy went away,' she said, 'except Helen. And +you don't mind kissing Helen. She _said_ you were going to adopt me for +your sister.' + +'Oh! all right,' said Philip, and put his arm round her and kissed her. +She felt so little and helpless and bony in his arm that he suddenly +felt sorry for her, kissed her again more kindly and then, withdrawing +his arm, thumped her hearteningly on the back. + +'Be a man,' he said in tones of comradeship and encouragement. 'I'm +perfectly certain nothing's going to happen. We're just going through a +tunnel, and presently we shall just come out into the open air again, +with the sky and the stars going on as usual.' + +He spoke this standing on the prow beside Lucy, and as he spoke she +clutched his arm. + +'Oh, look,' she breathed, 'oh, listen!' + +He listened. And he heard a dull echoing roar that got louder and +louder. And he looked. The light of the lamps shone ahead on the dark +gleaming water, and then quite suddenly it did not shine on the water +because there was no longer any water for it to shine on. Only great +empty black darkness. A great hole, ahead, into which the stream poured +itself. And now they were at the edge of the gulf. The _Lightning Loose_ +gave a shudder and a bound and hung for what seemed a long moment on the +edge of the precipice down which the underground river was pouring +itself in a smooth sleek stream, rather like poured treacle, over what +felt like the edge of everything solid. + +[Illustration: Plunged headlong over the edge.] + +The moment ended, and the little yacht, with Philip and Lucy and the +parrot and the two dogs, plunged headlong over the edge into the dark +unknown abyss below. + +'It's all right, Lu,' said Philip in that moment. 'I'll take care of +you.' + +And then there was silence in the cavern--only the rushing sound of the +great waterfall echoed in the rocky arch. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GREAT SLOTH + + +You have heard of Indians shooting rapids in their birch-bark canoes? +And perhaps you have yourself sailed a toy boat on a stream, and made a +dam of clay, and waited with more or less patience till the water rose +nearly to the top, and then broken a bit of your dam out and made a +waterfall and let your boat drift over the edge of it. You know how it +goes slowly at first, then hesitates and sweeps on more and more +quickly. Sometimes it upsets; and sometimes it shudders and strains and +trembles and sways to one side and to the other, and at last rights +itself and makes up its mind, and rushes on down the stream, usually to +be entangled in the clump of rushes at the stream's next turn. This is +what happened to that good yacht, the _Lightning Loose_. She shot over +the edge of that dark smooth subterranean waterfall, hung a long +breathless moment between still air and falling water, slid down like a +flash, dashed into the stream below, shuddered, reeled, righted herself +and sped on. You have perhaps been down the water chute at Earl's Court? +It was rather like that. + +'It's--it's all right,' said Philip, in a rather shaky whisper. 'She's +going on all right.' + +'Yes,' said Lucy, holding his arm very tight; 'yes, I'm sure she's going +on all right.' + +'Are we drowned?' said a trembling squeak. 'Oh, Max, are we really +drowned?' + +'I don't think so,' Max replied with caution. 'And if we are, my dear, +we cannot undrown ourselves by screams.' + +'Far from it,' said the parrot, who had for the moment been rendered +quite speechless by the shock. And you know a parrot is not made +speechless just by any little thing. 'So we may just as well try to +behave,' it said. + +The lamps had certainly behaved, and behaved beautifully; through the +wild air of the fall, the wild splash as the _Lightning Loose_ struck +the stream below, the lamps had shone on, seemingly undisturbed. + +'An example to us all,' said the parrot. + +'Yes, but,' said Lucy, 'what are we to do?' + +'When adventures take a turn one is far from expecting, one does what +one can,' said the parrot. + +'And what's that?' + +'Nothing,' said the parrot. 'Philip has relieved Max at the helm and is +steering a straight course between the banks--if you can call them +banks. There is nothing else to be done.' + +There plainly wasn't. The _Lightning Loose_ rushed on through the +darkness. Lucy reflected for a moment and then made cocoa. This was real +heroism. It cheered every one up, including the cocoa-maker herself. It +was impossible to believe that anything dreadful was going to happen +when you were making that soft, sweet, ordinary drink. + +'I say,' Philip remarked when she carried a cup to him at the wheel, +'I've been thinking. All this is out of a book. Some one must have let +it out. I know what book it's out of too. And if the whole story got out +of the book we're all right. Only we shall go on for ages and climb out +at last, three days' journey from Trieste.' + +'I see,' said Lucy, and added that she hated geography. 'Drink your +cocoa while it's hot,' she said in motherly accents, and 'what book is +it?' + +'It's _The Last Cruise of the Teal_,' he said. 'Helen gave it me just +before she went away. It's a ripping book, and I used it for the roof +of the outer court of the Hall of Justice. I remember it perfectly. The +chaps on the _Teal_ made torches of paper soaked in paraffin.' + +'We haven't any,' said Lucy; 'besides our lamps light everything up all +right. Oh! there's Brenda crying again. She hasn't a shadow of pluck.' + +She went quickly to the cabin where Max was trying to cheer Brenda by +remarks full of solid good sense, to which Brenda paid no attention +whatever. + +'I knew how it would be,' she kept saying in a whining voice; 'I told +you so from the beginning. I wish we hadn't come. I want to go home. Oh! +what a dreadful thing to happen to dear little dogs.' + +'Brenda,' said Lucy firmly, 'if you don't stop whining you shan't have +any cocoa.' + +Brenda stopped at once and wagged her tail appealingly. + +'Cocoa?' she said, 'did any one say cocoa? My nerves are so delicate. I +know I'm a trial, dear Max, it's no use your pretending I'm not, but +there is nothing like cocoa for the nerves. Plenty of sugar, please, +dear Lucy. Thank you _so_ much! Yes, it's _just_ as I like it.' + +'There will be other things to eat by and by,' said Lucy. 'People who +whine won't get any.' + +'I'm sure nobody would _dream_ of whining,' said Brenda. 'I know I'm too +sensitive; but you can do anything with dear little dogs by kindness. +And as for whining--do you know it's a thing I've never been subject to, +from a child, never. Max will tell you the same.' + +Max said nothing, but only fixed his beautiful eyes hopefully on the +cocoa jug. + +And all the time the yacht was speeding along the underground stream, +beneath the vast arch of the underground cavern. + +'The worst of it is we may be going ever so far away from where we want +to get to,' said Philip, when Max had undertaken the steering again. + +'All roads,' remarked the parrot, 'lead to Somnolentia. And besides the +ship is travelling due north--at least so the ship's compass states, and +I have no reason as yet for doubting its word.' + +'Hullo!' cried more than one voice, and the ship shot out of the dark +cavern into a sheet of water that lay spread under a white dome. The +stream that had brought them there seemed to run across one side of this +pool. Max, directed by the parrot, steered the ship into smooth water, +where she lay at rest at last in the very middle of this great +underground lake. + +'_This_ isn't out of _The Cruise of the Teal_,' said Philip. 'They must +have shut that book.' + +'I think it's out of a book about Mexico or Peru or Ingots or some +geographical place,' said Lucy; 'it had a green-and-gold binding. I +think you used it for the other end of the outer justice court. And if +you did, this dome's solid silver, and there's a hole in it, and under +this dome there's untold treasure in gold incas.' + +'What's incas?' + +'Gold bars, I believe,' said Lucy; 'and Mexicans come down through the +hole in the roof and get it, and when enemies come they flood it with +water. It's flooded now,' she added unnecessarily. + +'I wish adventures had never been invented,' said Brenda. 'No, dear +Lucy, I am not whining. Far from it. But if a dear little dog might +suggest it, we should all be better in a home, should we not?' + +All eyes now perceived a dark hole in the roof, a round hole exactly in +the middle of the shining dome. And as they gazed the dark hole became +light. And they saw above them a white shining disk like a very large +and very bright moon. It was the light of day. + +'Some one has opened the trap-door,' said Lucy. 'The Ingots always +closed their treasure-vaults with trap-doors.' + +The bright disk was obscured; confused shapes broke its shining +roundness. Then another disk, small and very black appeared in the +middle of it; the black disk grew larger and larger and larger. It was +coming down to them. Slowly and steadily it came; now it reached the +level of the dome, now it hung below it; down, down, down it came, past +the level of their eager eyes and splashed in the water close by the +ship. It was a large empty bucket. The rope which held it was jerked +from above; the bucket dipped and filled and was drawn up again slowly +and steadily till it disappeared in the hole in the roof. + +'Quick,' said the parrot, 'get the ship exactly under the hole, and next +time the bucket comes down you can go up in it.' + +'This is out of the _Arabian Nights_, I think,' said Lucy, when the +yacht was directly under the hole in the roof. 'But who is it that keeps +on opening the books? Somebody must be pulling Polistopolis down.' + +'The Pretenderette, I shouldn't wonder,' said Philip gloomily. 'She +isn't the Deliverer, so she must be the Destroyer. Nobody else can get +into Polistarchia, you know.' + +'There's me.' + +'Oh, you're Deliverer too.' + +'Thank you,' said Lucy gratefully. 'But there's Helen.' + +'She was only on the Island, you know; she couldn't come to +Polistarchia. Look out!' + +The bucket was descending again, and instead of splashing in the water +it bumped on the deck. + +'You go first,' said Philip to Lucy. + +'And you,' said Max to Brenda. + +'Oh, I'll go first if you like,' said Philip. + +'Yes,' said Max, 'I'll go first if you like, Brenda.' + +You see Philip felt that he ought to give Lucy the first chance of +escaping from the poor _Lightning Loose_. Yet he could not be at all +sure what it was that she would be escaping to. And if there was danger +overhead, of course he ought to be the one to go first to face it. And +the worthy Max felt the same about Brenda. + +And Lucy felt just the same as they did. I don't know what Brenda felt. +She whined a little. Then for one moment Lucy and Philip stood on the +deck each grasping the handle of the bucket and looking at each other, +and the dogs looked at them, and the parrot looked at every one in turn. +An impatient jerk and shake of the rope from above reminded them that +there was no time to lose. + +Lucy decided that it was more dangerous to go than to stay, just at the +same moment when Philip decided that it was more dangerous to stay than +to go, so when Lucy stepped into the bucket Philip helped her eagerly. +Max thought the same as Philip, and I am afraid Brenda agreed with them. +At any rate she leaped into Lucy's lap and curled her long length round +just as the rope tightened and the bucket began to go up. Brenda +screamed faintly, but her scream was stifled at once. + +'I'll send the bucket down again the moment I get up,' Lucy called out; +and a moment later, 'it feels awfully jolly, like a swing.' + +And so saying she was drawn up into the hole in the roof of the dome. +Then a sound of voices came down the shaft, a confused sound; the +anxious little party on the _Lightning Loose_ could not make out any +distinct words. They all stood staring up, expecting, waiting for the +bucket to come down again. + +'I hate leaving the ship,' said Philip. + +'You shall be the last to leave her,' said the parrot consolingly; 'that +is if we can manage about Max without your having to sit on him in the +bucket if he gets in first.' + +'But how about you?' said Philip. + +[Illustration: The bucket began to go up.] + +A little arrogantly the parrot unfolded half a bright wing. + +'Oh!' said Philip enlightened and reminded. 'Of course! And you might +have flown away at any time. And yet you stuck to us. I say, you know, +that was jolly decent of you.' + +'Not at all,' said the parrot with conscious modesty. + +'But it was,' Philip insisted. 'You might have---- hullo!' cried Philip. +The bucket came down again with a horrible rush. They held their breaths +and looked to see the form of Lucy hurtling through the air. But no, the +bucket swung loose a moment in mid-air, then it was hastily drawn up, +and a hollow metallic clang echoed through the cavern. + +'Brenda!' the cry was wrung from the heart of the sober self-contained +Max. + +'My wings and claws!' exclaimed the parrot. + +'Oh, bother!' said Philip. + +There was some excuse for these expressions of emotion. The white disk +overhead had suddenly disappeared. Some one up above had banged the lid +down. And all the manly hearts were below in the cave, and brave Lucy +and helpless Brenda were above in a strange place, whose dangers those +below could only imagine. + +'I wish _I'd_ gone,' said Philip. 'Oh, I _wish_ I'd gone.' + +'Yes, indeed,' said Max, with a deep sigh. + +'I feel a little faint,' said the parrot; 'if some one would make a cup +of cocoa.' + +Thus did the excellent bird seek to occupy their minds in that first +moment of disaster. And it was well that the captain and crew were thus +saved from despair. For before the kettle boiled, the lid of the shaft +opened about a foot and something largeish, roundish and lumpish fell +heavily and bounced upon the deck of the _Lightning Loose_. + +It was a pine-apple, fresh, ripe and juicy. On its side was carved in +large letters of uncertain shape the one word 'WAIT.' + +It was good advice and they took it. Really I do not see what else they +could have done in any case. And they ate the pine-apple. And presently +every one felt extremely sleepy. + +'Waiting is one of those things that you can do as well asleep as awake, +or even better,' said the parrot. 'Forty winks will do us all the good +in the world.' He put his head under his wing where he sat on the +binnacle. + +'May I turn in alongside you, sir?' Max asked. 'I shan't feel the +dreadful loneliness so much then.' + +So Philip and Max curled up together on the deck, warmly covered with +the spare flags of all nations, and the forty winks lasted for the space +of a good night's rest--about ten hours, in fact. So ten hours' waiting +was got through quite easily. But there was more waiting to do after +they woke up, and that was not so easy. + + . . . . . . . + +When Lucy, sitting in the bucket with Brenda in her lap, felt the bucket +lifted from the deck and swung loose in the air, it was as much as she +could do to refrain from screaming. Brenda _did_ scream, as you know, +but Lucy stifled the sound in the folds of her frock. + +Lucy bit her lips, made a great effort and called out that remark about +the bucket-swing, just as though she were quite comfortable. It was very +brave of her and helped her to go on being brave. + +The bucket drew slowly up and up and up and passed from the silver dome +into the dark shaft above. Lucy looked up. Yes, it was daylight that +showed at the top of the shaft, and the rope was drawing her up towards +it. Suppose the rope broke? Brenda was quite quiet now. She said +afterwards that she must have fainted. And now the light was nearer and +nearer. Now Lucy was in it, for the bucket had been drawn right up, and +hands were reached out to draw it over the side of what seemed like a +well. At that moment Lucy saw in a flash what might happen if the owners +of the hands, in their surprise, let go the bucket and the windlass. She +caught Brenda in her hands and threw the dog out on to the dry ground, +and threw herself across the well parapet. Just in time, for a shout of +surprise went up and the bucket went down, clanging against the well +sides. The hands _had_ let go. + +Lucy clambered over the well side slowly, and when her feet stood on +firm ground she saw that the hands were winding up the bucket again, and +that it came very easily. + +'Oh, don't!' she said. 'Let it go right down! There are some more people +down there.' + +'Sorry, but it's against the rules. The bucket only goes down this well +forty times a day. And that was the fortieth time.' + +They pulled the bucket in and banged down the lid of the well. Some one +padlocked it and put the key in his pocket. And Lucy and he stood facing +each other. He was a little round-headed man in a curious stiff red +tunic, and there was something about the general shape of him and his +tunic which reminded Lucy of something, only she could not remember +what. Behind him stood two others, also red-tunicked and round-headed. + +[Illustration: Lucy threw herself across the well parapet.] + +Brenda crouched at Lucy's feet and whined softly, and Lucy waited for +the strangers to speak. + +'You shouldn't do that,' said the red-tunicked man at last, 'it was a +great shock to us, your bobbing up as you did. It will keep us awake at +night, just remembering it.' + +'I'm sorry,' said Lucy. + +'You should always come into strange towns by the front gate,' said the +man; 'try to remember that, will you? Good-night.' + +'But you're not going off like this,' said Lucy. 'Let me write a note +and drop it down to the others. Have you a bit of pencil, and paper?' + +'No,' said the strange people, staring at her. + +'Haven't you anything I can write on?' Lucy asked them. + +'There's nothing here but pine-apples,' said one of them at last. + +So she cut a pine-apple from among the hundreds that grew among the +rocks near by, and carved 'WAIT' on it with her penknife. + +'Now,' she said, 'open that well lid.' + +'It's as much as our lives are worth,' said the leader. + +'No it isn't,' said Lucy; 'there's no law against dropping pine-apples +into the well. You know there isn't. It isn't like drawing water. And if +you don't I shall set my little dog at you. She is very fierce.' + +Brenda was so flattered that she showed her teeth and growled. + +'Oh, very well,' said the stranger; 'anything to avoid fuss.' + +When the well lid was padlocked down again, Lucy said: + +'What country is this?' though she was almost sure, because of the +pine-apples, that it was Somnolentia. And when they had said that word +she said: + +'Now I'll tell you something. The Deliverer is coming up that well next +time you draw water. He is coming to deliver you from the bondage of the +Great Sloth.' + +'It is true,' said the red round-headed leader, 'that we are in bondage. +And the Great Sloth wearies us with the singing of choric songs when we +long to be asleep. But none can deliver us. There is no hope. There is +nothing good but sleep. And of that we have never enough.' + +'Oh, dear,' said Lucy despairingly, 'aren't there any women here? They +always have more sense than men.' + +'What you say is rude as well as untrue,' said the red leader; 'but to +avoid fuss we will lead you and your fierce dog to the huts of the +women. And then perhaps you will allow us to go to sleep.' + +The huts were poor and mean, little fenced-in corners in the ruins of +what had once been a great and beautiful city, with gardens and streams; +but now the streams were dry and nothing grew in the gardens but weeds +and pine-apples. + +But the women--who all wore green tunics of the same stiff shape as the +men's--were not quite so sleepy as their husbands. They brought Lucy +fresh pine-apples to eat, and were dreamily interested in the cut of her +clothes and the begging accomplishments of Brenda. And from the women +she learned several things about the Somnolentians. They all wore the +same shaped tunics, only the colours differed. The women's were green, +the drawers of water wore red, the attendants of the Great Sloth wore +black, and the pine-apple gatherers wore yellow. + +And as Lucy sat at the door of the hut and watched the people in these +four colours going lazily about among the ruins she suddenly knew what +they were, and she exclaimed: + +'I know what you are; you're Halma men.' + +Instantly every man within earshot made haste to get away, and the women +whispered, 'Hush! It is death to breathe that name.' + +'But why?' Lucy asked. + +'Halma was the great captain of our race,' said the woman, 'and the +Great Sloth fears that if we hear his name it will rouse us and we shall +break from bondage and become once more a free people.' + +Lucy determined that they should hear that name pretty often; but before +she could speak it again the woman sighed, and remarking 'The Great +Sloth sleeps,' fell asleep then and there over the pine-apple she was +peeling. A vast silence settled on the city, and next moment Lucy also +slept. She slept for hours. + + . . . . . . . + +It took her some time to find the keeper of the padlock key, and when +she had found him he refused to use it. Nothing would move him, not even +the threat of the fierceness of Brenda. + +At last, almost in despair, Lucy suddenly remembered a word of power. + +'I command you to open the well and let down the bucket,' she said. 'I +command you by the great name of Halma.' + +'It is death to speak that name,' said the keeper of the key, looking +over his shoulder anxiously. + +'It is life to speak that name,' said Lucy. 'Halma! Halma! Halma! If you +don't open that well I'll carve the name on a pine-apple and send it in +on the golden tray with the Great Sloth's dinner.' + +'It would have the lives of hundreds for that,' said the keeper in +horror. + +'Open the well then,' said Lucy. + + . . . . . . . + +They all held a council as soon as Philip and Max had been safely drawn +up in the bucket, and Lucy told them all she knew. + +'I think whatever we do we ought to be quick,' said Lucy; 'that Great +Sloth is dangerous. I'm sure it is. It's sent already to say I am to be +brought to its presence to sing songs to it while it goes to sleep. It +doesn't mind me because it knows I'm not the Deliverer. And if you'll +let me, I believe I can work everything all right. But if it knows +you're here, it'll be much harder.' + +The degraded Halma men were watching them from a distance, in whispering +groups. + +'I shall go and sing to the Great Sloth,' she said, 'and you must go +about and say the name of power to every one you meet, and tell them +you're the Deliverer. Then if my idea doesn't come off, we must +overpower the Great Sloth by numbers and . . . . You just go about saying +"Halma!"--see?' + +'While you do the dangerous part? Likely!' said Philip. + +'It's not dangerous. It never hurts the people who sing--never,' said +Lucy. 'Now I'm going.' + +And she went before Philip could stop her. + +'Let her go,' said the parrot; 'she is a wise child.' + +The temple of the Great Sloth was built of solid gold. It had beautiful +pillars and doorways and windows and courts, one inside the other, each +paved with gold flagstones. And in the very middle of everything was a +large room which was entirely feather-bed. There the Great Sloth passed +its useless life in eating, sleeping and listening to music. + +Outside the moorish arch that led to this inner room Lucy stopped and +began to sing. She had a clear little voice and she sang 'Jockey to the +Fair,' and 'Early one morning,' and then she stopped. + +And a great sleepy slobbery voice came out from the room and said: + +'Your songs are in very bad taste. Do you know no sleepy songs?' + +'Your people sing you sleepy songs,' said Lucy. 'What a pity they can't +sing to you all the time.' + +'You have a sympathetic nature,' said the Great Sloth, and it came out +and leaned on the pillar of its door and looked at her with sleepy +interest. It was enormous, as big as a young elephant, and it walked on +its hind legs like a gorilla. It was very black indeed. + +'It _is_ a pity,' it said; 'but they say they cannot live without +drinking, so they waste their time in drawing water from the wells.' + +'Wouldn't it be nice,' said Lucy, 'if you had a machine for drawing +water. Then they could sing to you all day--if they chose.' + +'If _I_ chose,' said the Great Sloth, yawning like a hippopotamus. 'I am +sleepy. Go!' + +'No,' said Lucy, and it was so long since the Great Sloth had heard that +word that the shock of the sound almost killed its sleepiness. + +'_What_ did you say?' it asked, as if it could not believe its large +ears. + +'I said "No,"' said Lucy. 'I mean that you are so great and grand you +have only to wish for anything and you get it.' + +'Is that so?' said the Great Sloth dreamily and like an American. + +'Yes,' said Lucy with firmness. 'You just say, "I wish I had a machine +to draw up water for eight hours a day." That's the proper length for a +working day. Father says so.' + +'Say it all again, and slower,' said the creature. 'I didn't quite catch +what you said.' + +Lucy repeated the words. + +'If that's all. . . .' said the Great Sloth; 'now say it again, very +slowly indeed.' + +Lucy did so and the Great Sloth repeated after her: + +'I wish I had a machine to draw up water for eight hours a day.' + +'Don't,' it said angrily, looking back over its shoulder into the +feather-bedded room, 'don't, I say. Where are you shoving to? Who are +you? What are you doing in my room? Come out of it.' + +Something did come out of the room, pushing the Great Sloth away from +the door. And what came out was the vast feather-bed in enormous rolls +and swellings and bulges. It was being pushed out by something so big +and strong that it was stronger that the Great Sloth itself, and pushed +that mountain of lazy sloth-flesh half across its own inner courtyard. +Lucy retreated before its advancing bulk and its extreme rage. + +'Push me out of my own feather-bedroom, would it?' said the Sloth, now +hardly sleepy at all. 'You wait till I get hold of it, whatever it is.' + +The whole of the feather-bed was out in the courtyard now, and the Great +Sloth climbed slowly back over it into its room to find out who had +dared to outrage its Slothful Majesty. + +Lucy waited, breathless with hope and fear, as the Great Sloth blundered +back into the inner room of its temple. It did not come out again. +There was a silence, and then a creaking sound and the voice of the +Great Sloth saying: + +'No, no, no, I won't. Let go, I tell you.' Then more sounds of creaking +and the sound of metal on metal. + +She crept to the arch and peeped round it. + +The room that had been full of feather-bed was now full of wheels and +cogs and bands and screws and bars. It was full, in fact, of a large and +complicated machine. And the handle of that machine was being turned by +the Great Sloth itself. + +'Let me go,' said the Great Sloth, gnashing its great teeth. 'I won't +work!' + +'You must,' said a purring voice from the heart of the machinery. 'You +wished for me, and now you have to work me eight hours a day. It is the +law'; it was the machine itself which spoke. + +'I'll break you,' said the Sloth. + +'I am unbreakable,' said the machine with gentle pride. + +'This is your doing,' said the Sloth, turning its furious eyes on Lucy +in the doorway. 'You wait till I catch you!' And all the while it had to +go on turning that handle. + +'Thank you,' said Lucy politely; 'I think I will not wait. And I shall +have eight hours' start,' she added. + +Even as she spoke a stream of clear water began to run from the pumping +machine. It slid down the gold steps and across the golden court. Lucy +ran out into the ruined square of the city shouting: + +'Halma! Halma! Halma! To me, Halma's men!' + +And the men, already excited by Philip, who had gone about saying that +name of power without a moment's pause all the time Lucy had been in the +golden temple, gathered round her in a crowd. + +'Quick!' she said; 'the Great Sloth is pumping water up for you. He will +pump for eight hours a day. Quick! dig a channel for the water to run +in. The Deliverer,' she pointed to Philip, 'has given you back your +river.' + +Some ran to look out old rusty half-forgotten spades and picks. But +others hesitated and said: + +'The Great Sloth will work for eight hours, and then it will be free to +work vengeance on us.' + +'I will go back,' said Lucy, 'and explain to it that if it does not +behave nicely you will all wish for machine guns, and it knows now +that if people wish for machinery they have to use it. It will be +awake now for eight hours and if you all work for eight hours a day +you'll soon have your city as fine as ever. And there's one new law. +Every time the clock strikes you must all say "Halma!" aloud, every one +of you, to remind yourselves of your great destiny, and that you are no +longer slaves of the Great Sloth.' + +[Illustration: And all the while it had to go on turning that handle.] + +She went back and explained machine guns very carefully to the now +hard-working Sloth. When she came back all the men were at work digging +a channel for the new river. + +The women and children crowded round Lucy and Philip. + +'Ah!' said the oldest woman of all, 'now we shall be able to wash in +water. I've heard my grandmother say water was very pleasant to wash in. +I never thought I should live to wash in water myself.' + +'Why?' Lucy asked. 'What do you wash in?' + +'Pine-apple juice,' said a dozen voices, 'when we _do_ wash!' + +'But that must be very sticky,' said Lucy. + +'It is,' said the oldest woman of all; 'very!' + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +THE NIGHT ATTACK + + +The Halma men were not naturally lazy. They were, in the days before the +coming of the Great Sloth, a most energetic and industrious people. Now +that the Sloth was obliged to work eight hours a day, the weight of its +constant and catching sleepiness was taken away, and the people set to +work in good earnest. (I did explain, didn't I, that the Great Sloth's +sleepiness really was catching, like measles?) + +So now the Halma men were as busy as ants. Some dug the channel for the +new stream, some set to work to restore the buildings, while others +weeded the overgrown gardens and ploughed the deserted fields. The head +Halma man painted in large letters on a column in the market-place these +words: + +'This city is now called by its ancient name of Briskford. Any citizen +found calling it Somnolentia will not be allowed to wash in water for a +week.' + +The head-man was full of schemes, the least of which was the lighting of +the town by electricity, the power to be supplied by the Great Sloth. + +'He can't go on pumping eight hours a day,' said the head-man; 'I can +easily adjust the machine to all sorts of other uses.' + +In the evening a banquet was (of course) given to the Deliverers. The +banquet was all pine-apple and water, because there had been no time to +make or get anything else. But the speeches were very flattering; and +Philip and Lucy were very pleased, more so than Brenda, who did not like +pine-apple and made but little effort to conceal her disappointment. Max +accepted bits of pine-apple, out of politeness, and hid them among the +feet of the guests so that nobody's feelings should be hurt. + +'I don't know how we're to get back to the island,' said Philip next +day, 'now we've lost the _Lightning Loose_.' + +'I think we'd better go back by way of Polistopolis,' said Lucy, 'and +find out who's been opening the books. If they go on they may let simply +anything out. And if the worst comes to the worst, perhaps we could get +some one to help us to open the _Teal_ book again and get the _Teal_ +out to cross to the island in.' + +'Lu,' said Philip with feeling, 'you're clever, really clever. No, I'm +not kidding. I mean it. And I'm sorry I ever said you were only a girl. +But how are we to get to Polistopolis?' + +It was a difficult problem. The head-man could offer no suggestions. It +was Brenda who suggested asking the advice of the Great Sloth. + +'He is such a fine figure of an animal,' she said admiringly; 'so +handsome and distinguished-looking. I am sure he must have a really +great mind. I always think good looks go with really great minds, don't +you, dear Lucy?' + +'We might as well,' said Philip, 'if no one can think of anything else.' + +No one could. So they decided to take Brenda's advice. + +Now that the Sloth worked every day it was not nearly so disagreeable as +it had been when it slept so much. + +The children approached it at the dinner hour and it listened patiently +if drowsily to their question. When it had quite done, it reflected--or +seemed to reflect; perhaps it had fallen asleep--until the town clock +struck one, the time for resuming work. Then it got up and slouched +towards its machine. + +'Cucumbers,' it said, and began to turn the handle of its wheel. They +had to wait till tea-time to ask it what it meant, for in that town the +rule about not speaking to the man at the wheel was strictly enforced. + +'Cucumbers,' the Sloth repeated, and added a careful explanation. 'You +sit on the end of any young cucumber which points in the desired +direction, and when it has grown to its full length--say sixteen +inches--why, then you are sixteen inches on your way.' + +'But that's not much,' said Lucy. + +'Every little helps,' said the Sloth; 'more haste less speed. Then you +wait till the cucumber seeds, and, when the new plants grow, you select +the earliest cucumber that points in the desired direction and take your +seat on it. By the end of the cucumber season you will be another +sixteen--or with luck seventeen--inches on your way. Thirty-two inches +in all, almost a yard. And thus you progress towards your goal, slowly +but surely, like in politics.' + +'Thank you very much,' said Philip; 'we will think it over.' + +But it did not need much thought. + +'If we could get a motor car!' said Philip. 'If you can get machines by +wishing for them. . . .' + +'The very thing,' said Lucy, 'let's find the head-man. _We_ mustn't wish +for a motor or we should have to go on using it. But perhaps there's +some one here who'd like to drive a motor--for his living, you know?' + +There was. A Halma man, with an inborn taste for machinery, had long +pined to leave the gathering of pine-apples to others. He was induced to +wish for a motor and a B.S.A. sixty horse-power car snorted suddenly in +the place where a moment before no car was. + +'Oh, the luxury! This is indeed like home,' sighed Brenda, curling up on +the air-cushions. + +And the children certainly felt a gloriously restful sensation. Nothing +to be done; no need to think or bother. Just to sit quiet and be borne +swiftly on through wonderful cities, all of which Philip vaguely +remembered to have seen, small and near, and built by his own hands and +Helen's. + +And so, at last, they came close to Polistopolis. Philip never could +tell how it was that he stopped the car outside the city. It must have +been some quite unaccountable instinct, because naturally, you know, +when you are not used to being driven in motors, you like to dash up to +the house you are going to, and enjoy your friends' enjoyment of the +grand way in which you have travelled. But Philip felt--in that quite +certain and quite unexplainable way in which you do feel things +sometimes--that it was best to stop the car among the suburban groves of +southernwood, and to creep into the town in the disguise afforded by +motor coats, motor veils and motor goggles. (For of course all these had +come with the motor car when it was wished for, because no motor car is +complete without them.) + +[Illustration: Philip felt that it was best to stop the car among the +suburban groves of southernwood.] + +They said good-bye warmly to the Halma motor man, and went quietly +towards the town, Max and Brenda keeping to heel in the most +praiseworthy way, and the parrot nestling inside Philip's jacket, for it +was chilled by the long rush through the evening air. + +And now the scattered houses and spacious gardens gave place to the +streets of Polistopolis, the capital of the kingdom. And the streets +were strangely deserted. The children both felt--in that quite certain +and unexplainable way--that it would be unwise of them to go to the +place where they had slept the last time they were in that city. + +The whole party was very tired. Max walked with drooping tail, and +Brenda was whining softly to herself from sheer weariness and +weak-mindedness. The parrot alone was happy--or at least contented. +Because it was asleep. + +At the corner of a little square planted with southernwood-trees in +tubs, Philip called a halt. + +'Where shall we go?' he said; 'let us put it to the vote.' + +And even as he spoke, he saw a dark form creeping along in the shadow of +the houses. + +'Who goes there?' Philip cried with proper spirit, and the answer +surprised him, all the more that it was given with a kind of desperate +bravado. + +'I go here; I, Plumbeus, Captain of the old Guard of Polistopolis.' + +'Oh, it's you!' cried Philip; 'I _am_ glad. You can advise us. Where can +we go to sleep? Somehow or other I don't care to go to the house where +we stayed before.' + +The captain made no answer. He simply caught at the hands of Lucy and +Philip, dragged them through a low arched doorway and, as soon as the +long lengths of Brenda and Max had slipped through, closed the door. + +'Safe,' he said in a breathless way, which made Philip feel that safety +was the last thing one could count on at that moment. + +'Now, speak low, who knows what spies may be listening? I am a plain +man. I speak as I think. You came out of the unknown. You may be the +Deliverer or the Destroyer. But I am a judge of faces--always was from +a boy--and I cannot believe that this countenance of apple-cheeked +innocence is that of a Destroyer.' + +Philip was angry and Lucy was furious. So he said nothing. And she said: + +'Apple-cheeked yourself!' which was very rude. + +'I see that you are annoyed,' said the captain in the dark, where, of +course, he could see nothing; 'but in calling your friend apple-cheeked +I was merely offering the highest compliment in my power. The absence of +fruit in this city is, I suppose, the reason why our compliments are +like that. I believe poets say "sweet as a rose"--_we_ say "sweet as an +orange." May I be allowed unreservedly to apologise?' + +'Oh, that's all right,' said Philip awkwardly. + +'And to ask whether you _are_ the Deliverer?' + +'I hope so,' said Philip modestly. + +'Of course he is,' said the parrot, putting its head out from the front +of Philip's jacket; 'and he has done six deeds out of the seven +already.' + +'It is time that deeds were done here,' said the captain. 'I'll make a +light and get you some supper. I'm in hiding here; but the walls are +thick and all the shutters are shut.' + +He bolted a door and opened the slide of a dark lantern. + +'Some of us have taken refuge in the old prison,' he said; 'it's never +used, you know, so her spies don't infest it as they do every other part +of the city.' + +'Whose spies?' + +'The Destroyer's,' said the captain, getting bread and milk out of a +cupboard; 'at least, if you're the Deliverer she must be that. But she +says she's the Deliverer.' + +He lighted candles and set them on the table as Lucy asked eagerly: + +'What Destroyer? Is it a horrid woman in a motor veil?' + +'You've guessed it,' said the captain gloomily. + +'It's that Pretenderette,' said Philip. 'Does Mr. Noah know? What has +she been doing?' + +'Everything you can think of,' said the captain; 'she says she's Queen, +and that she's done the seven deeds. And Mr. Noah doesn't know, because +she's set a guard round the city, and no message can get out or in.' + +'The Hippogriff?' said Lucy. + +'Yes, of course I thought of that,' said the captain. 'And so did she. +She's locked it up and thrown the key into one of the municipal wells.' + +'But why do the guards obey her?' Philip asked. + +'They're not _our_ guards, of course,' the captain answered. 'They're +strange soldiers that she got out of a book. She got the people to pull +down the Hall of Justice by pretending there was fruit in the gigantic +books it's built with. And when the book was opened these soldiers came +marching out. The Sequani and the Aedui they call themselves. And when +you've finished supper we ought to hold a council. There are a lot of us +here. All sorts. Distinctions of rank are forgotten in times of public +peril.' + +Some twenty or thirty people presently gathered in that round room from +whose windows Philip and Lucy had looked out when they were first +imprisoned. There were indeed all sorts, match-servants, domino-men, +soldiers, china-men, Mr. Noah's three sons and his wife, a pirate and a +couple of sailors. + +'What book,' Philip asked Lucy in an undertone, 'did she get these +soldiers out of?' + +'Caesar, I think,' said Lucy. 'And I'm afraid it was my fault. I +remember telling her about the barbarians and the legions and things +after father had told me--when she was my nurse, you know. She's very +clever at thinking of horrid things to do, isn't she?' + +The council talked for two hours, and nobody said anything worth +mentioning. When every one was quite tired out, every one went to bed. + +It was Philip who woke in the night in the grasp of a sudden idea. + +'What is it?' asked Max, rousing himself from his warm bed at Philip's +feet. + +'I've thought of something,' said Philip in a low excited voice. 'I'm +going to have a night attack.' + +'Shall I wake the others?' asked Max, ever ready to oblige. + +Philip thought a moment. Then: + +'No,' he said, 'it's rather dangerous; and besides I want to do it all +by myself. Lucy's done more than her share already. Look out, Max; I'm +going to get up and go out.' + +He got up and he went out. There was a faint greyness of dawn now which +showed him the great square of the city on which he and Lucy had looked +from the prison window, a very long time ago as it seemed. He found +without difficulty the ruins of the Hall of Justice. + +And among the vast blocks scattered on the ground was one that seemed of +grey marble, and bore on its back in gigantic letters of gold the words +_De Bello Gallico_. + +Philip stole back to the prison and roused the captain. + +'I want twenty picked men,' he said, 'without boots--and at once.' + +He got them, and he led them to the ruins of the Justice Hall. + +'Now,' he said, 'raise the cover of this book; only the cover, not any +of the pages.' + +The men set their shoulders to the marble slab that was the book's cover +and heaved it up. And as it rose on their shoulders Philip spoke softly, +urgently. + +'Caesar,' he said, 'Caesar!' + +And a voice answered from under the marble slab. + +'Who calls?' it said. 'Who calls upon Julius Caesar?' + +And from the space below the slab, as it were from a marble tomb, a thin +figure stepped out, clothed in toga and cloak and wearing on its head a +crown of bays. + +'_I_ called,' said Philip in a voice that trembled a little. 'There's no +one but you who can help. The barbarians of Gaul hold this city. I call +on great Caesar to drive them away. No one else can help us.' + +Caesar stood for a moment silent in the grey twilight. Then he spoke. + +'I will do it,' he said; 'you have often tried to master Caesar and +always failed. Now you shall be no more ashamed of that failure, for you +shall see Caesar's power. Bid your slaves raise the leaves of my book to +the number of fifteen.' + +It was done, and Caesar turned towards the enormous open book. + +'Come forth!' he said. 'Come forth, my legions!' + +Then something in the book moved suddenly, and out of it, as out of an +open marble tomb, came long lines of silent armed men, ranged themselves +in ranks, and, passing Caesar, saluted. And still more came, and more +and more, each with the round shield and the shining helmet and the +javelins and the terrible short sword. And on their backs were the +packages they used to carry with them into war. + +'The Barbarians of Gaul are loose in this city,' said the voice of the +great commander; 'drive them before you once more as you drove them of +old.' + +'Whither, O Caesar?' asked one of the Roman generals. + +'Drive them, O Titus Labienus,' said Caesar, 'back into that book +wherein I set them more than nineteen hundred years ago, and from which +they have dared to escape. Who is their leader?' he asked of Philip. + +'The Pretenderette,' said Philip; 'a woman in a motor veil.' + +'Caesar does not war with women,' said the man in the laurel crown; 'let +her be taken prisoner and brought before me.' + +Low-voiced, the generals of Caesar's army gave their commands, and with +incredible quietness the army moved away, spreading itself out in all +directions. + +'She has caged the Hippogriff,' said Philip; 'the winged horse, and we +want to send him with a message.' + +'See that the beast is freed,' said Caesar, and turned to Plumbeus the +captain. 'We be soldiers together,' he said. 'Lead me to the main gate. +It is there that the fight will be fiercest.' He laid a hand on the +captain's shoulder, and at the head of the last legion, Caesar and the +captain of the soldiers marched to the main gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE END + + +Philip tore back to the prison, to be met at the door by Lucy. + +'I hate you,' she said briefly, and Philip understood. + +'I couldn't help it,' he said; 'I did want to do something by myself.' + +And Lucy understood. + +'And besides,' he said, 'I was coming back for you. Don't be snarky +about it, Lu. I've called up Caesar himself. And you shall see him +before he goes back into the book. Come on; if we're sharp we can hide +in the ruins of the Justice Hall and see everything. I noticed there was +a bit of the gallery left standing. Come on. I want you to think what +message to send by the Hippogriff to Mr. Noah.' + +'Oh, you needn't trouble about that,' said Lucy in an off-hand manner. +'I sent the parrot off _ages_ ago.' + +'And you never told me! Then I think that's quits; don't you?' + +Lucy had a short struggle with herself (you know those unpleasant and +difficult struggles, I am sure!) and said: + +'Right-o!' + +And together they ran back to the Justice Hall. + +The light was growing every moment, and there was now a sound of +movement in the city. Women came down to the public fountains to draw +water, and boys swept the paths and doorsteps. That sort of work goes on +even when barbarians are surrounding a town. And the ordinary sounds of +a town's awakening came to Lucy and Philip as they waited; crowing cocks +and barking dogs and cats mewing faintly for the morning milk. But it +was not for those sounds that Lucy and Philip were waiting. + +So through those homely and familiar sounds they listened, listened, +listened; and very gradually, so that they could neither of them have +said at any moment 'Now it has begun,' yet quite beyond mistake the +sound for which they listened was presently loud in their ears. And it +was the sound of steel on steel; the sound of men shouting in the +breathless moment between sword-stroke and sword-stroke; the cry of +victory and the wail of defeat. + +And, presently, the sound of feet that ran. + +And now a man shot out from a side street and ran across the square +towards the Palace of Justice where Lucy and Philip were hidden in the +gallery. And now another and another all running hard and making for the +ruined hall as hunted creatures make for cover. Rough, big, blond, their +long hair flying behind them, and their tunics of beast-skins flapping +as they ran, the barbarians fled before the legions of Caesar. The great +marble-covered book that looked like a marble tomb was still open, its +cover and fifteen leaves propped up against the tall broken columns of +the gateway of the Justice Hall. Into that open book leapt the first +barbarian, leapt and vanished, and the next after him and the next, and +then, by twos and threes and sixes and sevens, they leapt in and +disappeared, amid gasping and shouting and the nearing sound of the +bucina and of the trumpets of Rome. + +Then from all quarters of the city the Roman soldiers came trooping, and +as the last of the barbarians plunged headlong into the open book, the +Romans formed into ordered lines and waited, while a man might count +ten. Then, advancing between their ranks, came the spare form and thin +face of the man with the laurel crown. + +[Illustration: They leapt in and disappeared.] + +Twelve thousand swords flashed in air and wavered a little like reeds in +the breeze, then steadied themselves, and the shout went up from twelve +thousand throats: + +'Ave Caesar!' + +And without haste and without delay the Romans filed through the ruins +to the marble-covered book, and two by two entered it and disappeared. +Each as he passed the mighty conqueror saluted him with proud mute +reverence. + +When the last soldier was hidden in the book, Caesar looked round him, a +little wistfully. + +'I must speak to him; I must,' Lucy cried; 'I _must_. Oh, what a darling +he is!' + +She ran down the steps from the gallery and straight to Caesar. He +smiled when she reached him, and gently pinched her ear. Fancy going +through the rest of your life hearing all the voices of the world +through an ear that has been pinched by Caesar! + +'Oh, thank you! thank you!' said Philip; 'how splendid you are. I'll +swot up my Latin like anything next term, so as to read about you.' + +'Are they all in?' Lucy asked. 'I do hope nobody was hurt.' + +Caesar smiled. + +'A most unreasonable wish, my child, after a great battle!' he said. +'But for once the unreasonable is the inevitable. Nobody was hurt. You +see it was necessary to get every man back into the book just as he left +it, or what would the schoolmasters have done? There remain now only my +own guard who have in charge the false woman who let loose the +barbarians. And here they come.' + +Surrounded by a guard with drawn swords the Pretenderette advanced +slowly. + +'Hail, woman!' said Caesar. + +'Hail, whoever you are!' said the Pretenderette very sulkily. + +'I hail,' said Caesar, 'your courage.' + +Philip and Lucy looked at each other. Yes, the Pretenderette had +courage: they had not thought of that before. All the attempts she had +made against them--she alone in a strange land--yes, these needed +courage. + +'And I demand to know how you came here?' + +'When I found he'd been at his building again,' she said, pointing a +contemptuous thumb at Philip, 'I was just going to pull it down, and I +knocked down a brick or two with my sleeve, and not thinking what I was +doing I built them up again; and then I got a bit giddy and the whole +thing seemed to begin to grow--candlesticks and bricks and dominoes and +everything, bigger and bigger and bigger, and I looked in. It was as big +as a church by this time, and I saw that boy losing his way among the +candlestick pillars, and I followed him and I listened. And I thought I +could be as good a Deliverer as anybody else. And the motor veil that I +was going to catch the 2.37 train in was a fine disguise.' + +'You tried to injure the children,' Caesar reminded her. + +'I don't want to say anything to make you let me off,' said the +Pretenderette, 'but at the beginning I didn't think any of it was real. +I thought it was a dream. You can let your evil passions go in a dream +and it don't hurt any one.' + +'It hurts you,' Caesar said. + +'Oh! that's no odds,' said the Pretenderette scornfully. + +'You sought to injure and confound the children at every turn,' said +Caesar, 'even when you found that things were real.' + +'I saw there was a chance of being Queen,' said the Pretenderette, 'and +I took it. Seems to me you've no occasion to talk if you're Julius +Caesar, the same as the bust in the library. You took what you could get +right enough in your time, when all's said and done.' + +'I hail,' said Caesar again, 'your courage.' + +'You needn't trouble,' she said, tossing her head; 'my game's up now, +and I'll speak my mind if I die for it. You don't understand. You've +never been a servant, to see other people get all the fat and you all +the bones. What you think it's like to know if you'd just been born in a +gentleman's mansion instead of in a model workman's dwelling you'd have +been brought up as a young lady and had the openwork silk stockings and +the lace on your under-petticoats.' + +'You go too deep for me,' said Caesar, with the ghost of a smile. 'I now +pronounce your sentence. But life has pronounced on you a sentence worse +than any I can give you. Nobody loves you.' + +'Oh, you old silly,' said the Pretenderette in a burst of angry tears, +'don't you see that's just why everything's happened?' + +'You are condemned,' said Caesar calmly, 'to make yourself beloved. You +will be taken to Briskford, where you will teach the Great Sloth to like +his work and keep him awake for eight play-hours a day. In the intervals +of your toil you must try to get fond of some one. The Halma people are +kind and gentle. You will not find them hard to love. And when the Great +Sloth loves his work and the Halma people are so fond of you that they +feel they cannot bear to lose you, your penance will be over and you can +go where you will.' + +'You know well enough,' said the Pretenderette, still tearful and +furious, 'that if that ever happened I shouldn't want to go anywhere +else.' + +'Yes,' said Caesar slowly, 'I know.' + +Lucy would have liked to kiss the Pretenderette and say she was sorry, +but you can't do that when it is all other people's fault and _they_ +aren't sorry. And besides, before all these people, it would have looked +like showing off. You know, I am sure, exactly how Lucy felt. + +The Pretenderette was led away. And now Caesar stood facing the +children, his hands held out in farewell. The growing light of early +morning transfigured his face, and to Philip it suddenly seemed to be +most remarkably like the face of That Man, Mr. Peter Graham, whom Helen +had married. He was just telling himself not to be a duffer when Lucy +cried out in a loud cracked-sounding voice, 'Daddy, oh, Daddy!' and +sprang forward. + +And at that moment the sun rose above the city wall, and its rays +gleamed redly on the helmet and the breastplate and the shield and the +sword of Caesar. The light struck at the children's eyes like a blow. +Dazzled, they closed their eyes and when they opened them, blinking and +confused, Caesar was gone and the marble book was closed--for ever. + + . . . . . . . + +Three days later Mr. Noah arrived by elephant, and the meeting between +him and the children is, as they say, better imagined than described. +Especially as there is not much time left now for describing anything. +Mr. Noah explained that the freeing of Polistopolis from the +Pretenderette and the barbarians counted as the seventh deed and that +Philip had now attained the rank of King, the deed of the Great Sloth +having given him the title of Prince of Pine-apples. His expression of +gratitude and admiration were of the warmest, and Philip felt that it +was rather ungrateful of him to say, as he couldn't help saying: + +'Now I've done all the deeds, mayn't I go back to Helen?' + +'All in good time,' said Mr. Noah; 'I will at once set about the +arrangements for your coronation.' + +The coronation was an occasion of unexampled splendour. There was a +banquet (of course) and fireworks, and all the guns fired salutes and +the soldiers presented arms, and the ladies presented bouquets. And at +the end Mr. Noah, with a few well-chosen words which brought tears to +all eyes, placed the gold crown of Polistarchia upon the brow of Philip, +where its diamonds and rubies shone dazzlingly. + +There was an extra crown for Lucy, made of silver and pearls and pale +silvery moonstones. + +You have no idea how the Polistarchians shouted. + +'And now,' said Mr. Noah when it was all over, 'I regret to inform you +that we must part. Polistarchia is a Republic, and of course in a +republic kings and queens are not permitted to exist. Partings are +painful things. And you had better go at once.' + +He was plainly very much upset. + +'This is very sudden,' said Philip. + +And Lucy said, 'I do think it's silly. How shall we get home? All in a +hurry, like this?' + +'How did you get here?' + +'By building a house and getting into it.' + +'Then build your own house. Oh, we have models of all the houses you +were ever in. The pieces are all numbered. You only have to put them +together.' + +He led them to a large room behind the hall of Public Amusements and +took down from a shelf a stout box labelled 'The Grange.' On another box +Philip saw 'Laburnum Cottage.' + +Mr. Noah, kneeling on his yellow mat, tumbled the contents of the box +out on the floor, and Philip and Lucy set to work to build a house with +the exquisitely finished little blocks and stones and beams and windows +and chimneys. + +'I cannot bear to see you go,' said Mr. Noah. 'Good-bye, good-bye. +Remember me sometimes!' + +'We shall never forget you,' said the children, jumping up hugging him. + +'Good-bye!' said the parrot who had followed them in. + +'Good-bye, good-bye!' said everybody. + +'I wish the _Lightning Loose_ was not lost,' Philip even at this parting +moment remembered to say. + +'She isn't,' said Mr. Noah. 'She flew back to the island directly you +left her. Sails are called wings, are they not? White wings that never +grow weary, you know. Relieved of your weight, the faithful yacht flew +home like any pigeon.' + +'Hooray!' said Philip. 'I couldn't bear to think of her rotting away in +a cavern.' + +'I wish Max and Brenda had come to say good-bye,' said Lucy. + +'It is not needed,' said Mr. Noah mysteriously. And then everybody said +good-bye again, and Mr. Noah rolled up his yellow mat, put it under his +arm again, and went--for ever. + +The children built the Grange, and when the beautiful little model of +that house was there before them, perfect, they stood still a moment, +looking at it. + +'I wish we could be two people each,' said Lucy, 'and one of each of us +go home and one of each of us stay here. Oh!' she cried suddenly, and +snatched at Philip's arm. For a slight strange giddiness had suddenly +caught her. Philip too swayed a little uncertainly and stood a moment +with his hand to his head. The children gazed about them bewildered and +still a little giddy. The room was gone, the model of the Grange was +gone. Over their heads was blue sky, under their feet was green grass, +and in front stood the Grange itself, with its front door wide open and +on the steps Helen and Mr. Peter Graham. + +That telegram had brought them home. + + . . . . . . . + +You will wonder how Lucy explained where she had been when she was lost. +She never did explain. There are some things, as you know, that cannot +be explained. But the curious thing is that no one ever asked for an +explanation. The grown-ups must have thought they knew all about it, +which, of course, was very far from being the truth. + +When the four people on the doorstep of the Grange had finished saying +how glad they were to see each other--that day on the steps when Philip +and Lucy came back from Polistarchia, Helen and Mr. Peter Graham came +back from Belgium--Helen said: + +'And we've brought you each the loveliest present. Fetch them, Peter, +there's a dear.' + +Mr. Peter Graham went to the stable-yard and came back followed by two +long tan dachshunds, who rushed up to the children frisking and fawning +in a way they well knew. + +'Why Max! why Brenda!' cried Philip. 'Oh, Helen! are they for us?' + +'Yes, dear, of course they are,' said Helen; 'but how did you know their +names?' + +That was one of the things which Philip could not tell, then. + +But he told Helen the whole story later, and she said it was wonderful, +and how clever of him to make all that up, and that when he was a man he +would be able to be an author and to write books. + +'And do you know,' she said, 'I _did_ dream about the island--quite a +long dream, only when I woke up I could only remember that I'd been +there and seen you. But no doubt I dreamed about Mr. Noah and all the +rest of it as well, only I forgot it.' + + . . . . . . . + +And Max and Brenda of course loved every one. Their characters were +quite unchanged. Only the children had forgotten the language of +animals, so that conversation between them and the dogs was for ever +impossible. But Max and Brenda understand every word you say--any one +can see that. + + . . . . . . . + +You want to know what became of the redheaded, steely-eyed nurse, the +Pretenderette, who made so much mischief and trouble? Well, I suppose +she is still living with the Halma folk, teaching the Great Sloth to +like his work and learning to be fond of people--which is the only way +to be happy. At any rate no one that I know of has ever seen her again +anywhere else. + + +THE END + + + + +Macmillan & Co.'s New Books for the Young + + + +=Rewards and Fairies.= By RUDYARD KIPLING. With Illustrations by FRANK +CRAIG. + + _Uniform Edition._ Red cloth, gilt top. Extra + Crown 8vo. 6s. + + _Pocket Edition._ Printed on thin paper. Scarlet + leather, with gilt edges and special cover design. + Fcap. 8vo. 5s. net. + + _Edition de Luxe._ 8vo. 10s. 6d. net. + +=Green Willow and other Japanese Fairy Tales.= By GRACE JAMES. With 40 +Illustrations in Colour by WARWICK GOBLE. + + _Ordinary Edition._ Crown 4to. 15s. net. + + _Edition de Luxe._ Demy 4to. 42s. net. + +=The Water Babies.= By CHARLES KINGSLEY. With 16 Illustrations in Colour +by WARWICK GOBLE. 8vo. 5s. net. + + A smaller edition, issued at a popular price, of + Charles Kingsley's famous work, so charmingly + illustrated and interpreted by Mr. Warwick Goble's + drawings. The large edition was one of the most + successful of the illustrated works published in + the Autumn of 1909, and went rapidly out of print. + + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. + + + + +Macmillan & Co.'s New Books for the Young + + +=Three Tales of Hans Andersen. The Dauntless Tin Soldier, Thumbelisa, +The Little Mermaid.= With 22 Illustrations by LINLEY SAMBOURNE. Fcap. +4to. + +=I Wonder: Essays for the Young People.= By STEPHEN PAGET, Author of +_Confessio Medici_, etc. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. + +=Hearts and Coronets.= By ALICE WILSON FOX. Extra Crown 8vo. 6s. + +=The Story of a Year.= By MRS. MOLESWORTH. With Illustrations by +GERTRUDE DEMAIN HAMMOND. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. + +=The Hunting of the Snark. An Agony, in Eight Fits.= By LEWIS CARROLL. +With Illustrations by H. HOLIDAY. Miniature Edition. Pott 8vo. 1s. net. + +MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +The ~ symbol in the text form is used to indicate a much smaller type in +the original for a much smaller voice. + +Page 80, "delightfull" was changed to "delightful". (that delightful +chess-table) + +Page 265, "cocoanut" changed to "cocoa-nut" to conform to the rest of +text. 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