A few clouds had gathered about the west, but there was not a
single cloud
anywhere else to be seen.
Now Curdie did not know that this was a part of the country very
hard to get through. Nobody lived there, though many had tried to
build in it. Some died very soon. Some rushed out of it. Those
who stayed longest went raving mad, and died a terrible death.
Such as walked straight on, and did not spend a night there, got
through well and were nothing the worse. But those who slept even
a single night in it were sure to meet with something they could
never forget, and which often left a mark everybody could read.
And that old
hawthorn Might have been enough for a
warning - it
looked so like a human being dried up and distorted with age and
suffering, with cares instead of loves, and things instead of
thoughts. Both it and the heath around it, which stretched on all
sides as far as he could see, were so withered that it was
impossible to say whether they were alive or not.
And while Curdie ate there came a change. Clouds had gathered over
his head, and seemed drifting about in every direction, as if not
'shepherded by the slow,
unwilling wind,' but hunted in all
directions by wolfish flaws across the plains of the sky. The sun
was going down in a storm of lurid
crimson, and out of the west
came a wind that felt red and hot the one moment, and cold and pale
the other. And very
strangely it sang in the
dreary old
hawthorntree, and very
cheerily it blew about Curdie, now making him creep
close up to the tree for shelter from its shivery cold, now fan
himself with his cap, it was so
sultry and stifling. It seemed to
come from the deathbed of the sun, dying in fever and ague.
And as he gazed at the sun, now on the verge of the
horizon, very
large and very red and very dull - for though the clouds had broken
away a dusty fog was spread all over the disc - Curdie saw
something strange appear against it, moving about like a fly over
its burning face. This looked as if it were coming out of the
sun's
furnace heart, and was a living creature of some kind surely;
but its shape was very
uncertain, because the
dazzle of the light
all around melted the outlines.
It was growing larger, it must be approaching! It grew so rapidly
that by the time the sun was half down its head reached the top of
the arch, and
presently nothing but its legs were to be seen,
crossing and recrossing the face of the vanishing disc.
When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in a
moment he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling
heather,
and
seeming to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted his
pickaxes and threw the
hammer end over his shoulder: he was going
to have a fight for his life! And now it appeared again, vague,
yet very awful, in the dim
twilight the sun had left behind. But
just before it reached him, down from its four long legs it dropped
flat on the ground, and came crawling towards him, wagging a huge
tail as it came.
CHAPTER 11
Lina
IT was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her - the frightful
creature he had seen at the
princess's. He dropped his pickaxes
and held out his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her
chin in his palm, and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept away
behind the tree, and lay down, panting hard.
Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him.
Horrible as she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more
horrible when he was not looking at her. But he remembered the
child's hand, and never thought of driving her away. Now and then
he gave a glance behind him, and there she lay flat, with her eyes
closed and her terrible teeth gleaming between her two huge
forepaws.
After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie
should now be
sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and
pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought
to sleep. He found himself
mistaken, however. But although he
could not sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully.
Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he
had never heard before - a singing as of curious birds far off,
which drew nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and,
opening his eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed,
alighting around him, still singing. It was strange to hear song
from the throats of such big birds.
And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlike
voices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their
wings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be
troubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place
of
sweepingsmoothly on.
And he soon
learned, in the low short growls behind him, the cause
of the imperfection: they wanted to dance all round the tree, but
Lina would not permit them to come on her side.
Now curdie liked the birds, and did not
altogether like Lina. But
neither, nor both together, made a reason for driving away the
princess's creature. Doubtless she had been the goblins' creature,
but the last time he saw her was in the king's house and the dove
tower, and at the old
princess's feet. So he left her to do as she
would, and the dance of the birds continued only a semicircle,
troubled at the edges, and returning upon itself.
But their song and their motions,
nevertheless, and the waving of
their wings, began at length to make him very
sleepy. All the time
he had kept doubting whether they could really be birds, and the
sleepier he got, the more he imagined them something else, but he
suspected no harm.
Suddenly, just as he was sinking beneath the waves of
slumber, he
awoke in
fierce pain. The birds were upon him - all over him - and
had begun to tear him with beaks and claws. He had but time,
however, to feel that he could not move under their weight, when
they set up a
hideous screaming, and scattered like a cloud. Lina
was among them, snapping and
striking with her paws, while her tail
knocked them over and over. But they flew up, gathered, and
descended on her in a swarm, perching upon every part of her body,
so that he could see only a huge misshapen mass, which seemed to go
rolling away into the darkness. He got up and tried to follow, but
could see nothing, and after wandering about
hither and t
hither for
some time, found himself again beside the
hawthorn. He feared
greatly that the birds had been too much for Lina, and had torn her
to pieces. In a little while, however, she came limping back, and
lay down in her old place. Curdie also lay down, but, from the
pain of his wounds, there was no sleep for him. When the light
came he found his clothes a good deal torn and his skin as well,
but
gladly wondered why the
wicked birds had not at once attacked
his eyes. Then he turned, looking for Lina. She rose and crept to
him. But she was in far worse
plight than he - plucked and gashed
and torn with the beaks and claws of the birds, especially about
the bare part of her neck, so that she was
pitiful to see. And
those worst wounds she could not reach to lick.
'Poor Lina!' said Curdie, 'you got all those helping me.'
She wagged her tail, and made it clear she understood him. Then it
flashed upon Curdie's mind that perhaps this was the
companion the
princess had promised him. For the
princess did so many things
differently from what anybody looked for! Lina was no beauty
certainly, but already, the first night, she had saved his life.
'Come along, Lina,' he said, 'we want water.'
She put her nose to the earth, and after snuffing for a moment,
darted off in a straight line. Curdie followed. The ground was so
uneven, that after losing sight of her many times, at last he
seemed to have lost her
altogether. In a few minutes, however, he
came upon her
waiting for him. Instantly she darted off again.
After he had lost and found her again many times, he found her the
last time lying beside a great stone. As soon as he came up she
began scratching at it with her paws. When he had raised it an
inch or two, she shoved in first her nose and then her teeth, and
lifted with all the might of her neck.
When at length between them they got it up, there was a beautiful
little well. He filled his cap with the clearest and sweetest
water, and drank. Then he gave to Lina, and she drank plentifully.
Next he washed her wounds very carefully. And as he did so, he
noted how much the bareness of her neck added to the strange
repulsiveness of her appearance. Then he bethought him of the
goatskin
wallet his mother had given him, and
taking it from his
shoulders, tried whether it would do to make a
collar of for the
poor animal. He found there was just enough, and the hair so
similar in colour to Lina's, that no one could
suspect it of having
grown somewhere else.
He took his knife, ripped up the seams of the
wallet, and began
trying the skin to her neck. it was plain she understood perfectly
what he wished, for she endeavoured to hold her neck conveniently,
turning it this way and that while he contrived, with his rather
scanty material, to make the
collar fit. As his mother had taken
care to provide him with needles and thread, he soon had a nice
gorget ready for her. He laced it on with one of his boot laces,
which its long hair covered. Poor Lina looked much better in it.
Nor could any one have called it a piece of finery. If ever green
eyes with a yellow light in them looked
grateful, hers did.
As they had no longer any bag to carry them in, Curdie and Lina now
ate what was left of the provisions. Then they set out again upon
their journey. For seven days it lasted. They met with various
adventures, and in all of them Lina proved so helpful, and so ready
to risk her life for the sake of her
companion, that Curdie grew
not merely very fond but very trustful of her; and her ugliness,
which at first only moved his pity, now
actually increased his
affection for her. One day, looking at her stretched on the grass
before him, he said:
'Oh, Lina! If the
princess would but burn you in her fire of
roses!'
She looked up at him, gave a
mournful whine like a dog, and laid
her head on his feet. What or how much he could not tell, but
clearly she had gathered something from his words.
CHAPTER 12
More Creatures
One day from morning till night they had been passing through a
forest. As soon as the sun was down Curdie began to be aware that
there were more in it than themselves. First he saw only the swift
rush of a figure across the trees at some distance. Then he saw
another and then another at shorter intervals. Then he saw others
both farther off and nearer. At last,
missing Lina and looking
about after her, he saw an appearance as marvellous as herself
steal up to her, and begin conversing with her after some beast
fashion which
evidently she understood.
Presently what seemed a quarrel arose between them, and stranger
noises followed, mingled with growling. At length it came to a
fight, which had not lasted long, however, before the creature of
the wood threw itself upon its back, and held up its paws to Lina.
She
instantly walked on, and the creature got up and followed her.
They had not gone far before another strange animal appeared,
approaching Lina, when
precisely the same thing was
repeated, the
vanquished animal rising and following with the former. Again, and
yet again, and again, a fresh animal came up, seemed to be reasoned
and certainly was fought with and
overcome by Lina, until at last,
before they were out of the wood, she was followed by forty-nine of
the most
grotesquely ugly, the most extravagantly
abnormal animals
imagination can
conceive. To describe them were a
hopeless task.
I knew a boy who used to make animals out of
heather roots.
Wherever he could find four legs, he was pretty sure to find a head
and a tail. His beasts were a most comic menagerie, and right
fruitful of
laughter. But they were not so
grotesque and
extravagant as Lina and her followers. One of them, for instance,
was like a boa constrictor walking on four little stumpy legs near
its tail. About the same distance from its head were two little
wings, which it was forever fluttering as if
trying to fly with
them. Curdie thought it fancied it did fly with them, when it was