Part 8 (1/2)

Mishcha did all she could to soothe and quieten him. And at last she managed to make him swallow a little hard bright blue seed called Candar, which drives away fever and quiets dreams. But old Moha eyed him angrily, and wanted to throw him out into the forest to die. ”Who'd sleep in a jacket that a gibbering Mulgar has died in?” she said.

When the next night was nearly gone, but before it was yet day, Nod awoke, cool and clear, and stared into the musty darkness of the Dragon-tree, wondering in vain where he was. Only one small spark of light could he see--the red star Antares, that was now burning through a little rift in the bark. He thought he heard a faint rustling of dry leaves.

”Hey, there!” he called out. ”Where is Nod?”

”Hold your tongue, thieving Mulgar,” cried an angry voice, ”and let honest folk sleep in peace.”

”If I could see,” Nod answered weakly, ”you wouldn't sleep much to-night, honest or no.”

”You can't see,” answered the voice softly, ”because, my man of bones, you are dead and buried under the snow.”

Nod grew cold. He pinched his legs; he opened and shut his mouth, and took long, deep breaths; then he laughed. ”It's none so bad, then, being dead, Voice-of-Kindness,” he said cheerfully, ”if it weren't for this sore shoulder of mine.”

But to this the morose voice made no answer. Not yet, even, could Nod remember all that had happened. ”Hey, there!” he called out again presently, ”who buried me, then?”

”Buried you? Why, Mishcha and Moha, the old witch-hares, who found you snuffling in the snow in your stolen sheep's-coat--Mishcha and Moha, who wouldn't touch monkey-skin, not for a grove of green Candar-trees.”

”I remember Moha,” said Nod meekly, ”a gentle and sleek, a very, very handsome old Quatta. And is she dead, too?”

But again the sour voice made no reply.

”Once,” said Nod, in a little while, ”I had two brave brothers. I wonder where those Mulla-mulgars are now?”

”He wonders,” said the voice slowly--”he _wonders_! Frizzling, frizzling, frizzling, my pretty Talk-by-Night, with seven smoking Gelica-nuts for company on the spit.”

At this Nod fell silent. He lay quaking in his warm, rustling bed, with puckered forehead and restless eyes, wondering if the voice had told him the truth, while daybreak stole abroad in the forest.

When dusk began to stir within the Dragon-tree, Mishcha awoke and came and looked at him.

She hearkened at his ribs and mouth, and there seemed, Nod thought, a little kindness in her ways. So he put out his shrunken hand, and said: ”Tell me truly, witch-hare. A voice in the night was merry with me, and told me for pleasure that my brothers Thumb and Thimble were frizzling on the cannibal Minimuls' spits. That is not true?”

”'One long and lean,'” said Mishcha, ”'one fat and very heavy, and one sly and tiny, a Nizza-neela.' Here's the Nizza-neela Mulla-mulgar; I know nothing of the others.”

”Ah, then,” said Nod, starting up out of his bed, ”I must be off to look for them. Their Little Horses ran faster than mine. And mine, he was a coward, and nibbled my sore shoulder to make me loose hold. But he could not buck or sc.r.a.pe me off, witch-hare, tried he never so hard. I must be off at once to look for my brothers. If they are dead, then I die too.”

”Well, well,” said the old hare, ”it's sad to die, but it's sadder to live alone. But tell me first one thing,” she said. ”Where have these strange Mulgars come from in their rags and bravery?”

”Ohe,” said Nod, and told her who they were.

”And tell me just one thing more,” she said, when he had finished.

”Where, little Mulgar, is all this Magic I can smell?”

And at that question Nod thought he could never keep from laughing. But he looked very solemn, and said: ”There are three things, old hare, I always carry about with me--one is my sheep's-jacket, one is hunger, and the other is Magic; and the Magic just now is where my hunger is.”

The old hare eyed him narrowly. ”Well,” she said, ”wherever it is, if it hadn't been for the Magic, little Mulgar, the Jaccatrays would have been quarrelling over your bones. But there! remember old Mishcha sometimes in your travels, who hated every Mulgar except just one little one!” She bade him be very quiet, for her sister, after the night's talk, still lay fast asleep, her eyes wide open, in the gloom.

And she put Ukka-nuts, and dried berries and fruits of many kinds, and seven pepper-pods into his pockets, and b.u.t.toned the flaps. And she gave him also some powdered physic-nuts, three bright-blue Candar-seeds, and a little bunch of faded saffron-flower for a protection against the teeth of the dreaded Coccadrillo. She tied up his shoulder with soft clean moss, and fetched him a stout stick for cudgel out of the forest.

And then she hobbled out with him to see him on his way. Dawn lay rosy and still upon the snow-laden branches.