Life and Adventures of Santa Claus & Other Christmas Novels. Люси Мод Монтгомери

tell.

      'Godmother is steering us,' said Silva softly, 'but we can't see her. She doesn't want us to see her. But she'll take care of us.'

      'But where are we?' asked Maia bewildered. 'What is this queer ship or balloon that we are in? What makes it go?'

      'Look closer, and you'll see,' said Silva. 'Look at the sails.'

      And Maia looking, saw by the bright moonlight something stranger than any of the strange things she had yet seen in Christmas-tree land. The sails were made of an immense collection of birds all somehow or other holding together. Afterwards Silva explained to her that they were all clinging by their claws to a great frame, round which they were arranged in order according to their size, and all flapping their wings in perfect time, so as to have much the same effect in propelling the vessel through the air as the regular motion of several pairs of oars in rowing a boat over the sea. And gradually, as Maia watched and understood, a soft murmur reached her ears—it was the waft of the many pairs of wings as they all together clove the air.

      'Oh, the dear, sweet birds!' she exclaimed. 'They have planned it all themselves, I am sure. Oh, Silva, isn't it lovely? Have you ever had a sail in the air like this before?'

      'Not exactly like this,' said Silva.

      'We've had rides in the air,' said Waldo mysteriously.

      'Have you?' said Maia eagerly. 'Oh, do tell us about them!'

      But Rollo laid his hand on her arm.

      'Hush!' he said softly; 'the birds are going to sing,' and before Maia had time to ask him how he knew, the song began.

      'Shut your eyes,' said Waldo; 'let's all shut our eyes. It sounds ever so much prettier.'

      The others followed his advice. You can imagine nothing more delicious than the feeling of floating—for it felt more like quick floating than anything else—swiftly through the air, with the sweet warbling voices all keeping perfect time together, so that even the queer sounds which now and then broke through the others—a croak from the crow, who was quite satisfied that he alone conducted the bass voices, or a sudden screech from an owl, who had difficulty in subduing his tones—did not seem to mar the effect of the whole. The children did not speak; they did not feel as if they cared to do so. They held each others' hands, and Maia leant her head on Silva's shoulder in perfect content. It was like a beautiful dream.

      Gradually the music ceased, and just as it did so godmother's well-known voice came clearly through the air. It seemed to come from above, and yet it sounded so near.

      'Children,' she said, 'we are going higher. It will be colder for a while, for we must hasten, to be in good time for the dawn. Wrap yourselves up well!'

      And as she spoke down dropped on their heads a great soft fleecy shawl or mantle. Softer and fleecier and lighter than any eider-down or lambs' wool that ever was seen or felt, and warmer too, for the children had but to give it the tiniest pull or pat in any direction and there it settled itself in the most comfortable way, creeping round them like the gentle hand of a mother covering up the little ones at night.

      'It must be godmother who is tucking us up, though we can't see her,' said Rollo.

      'Dear godmother,' said Maia, and a sort of little echo was murmured all round, even the birds seeming to join in it, of 'dear godmother.'

      It did get colder, much colder; but the well-protected children, nestling in the cushions of their air-boat, did not feel it, except when inquisitive Maia poked up her sharp little nose, very quickly to withdraw it again.

      'Oh, it is so freezy,' she said. 'My nose feels as if it would drop off. Do rub it for me, Silva.'

      'I told you it would be cold,' said godmother's voice again. 'Stay where you are, Maia; indeed, I think I don't need to warn you now. A burnt child dreads the fire. I will tell you all when the time comes for you to peep out.'

      Maia felt a very little ashamed of her restlessness, and for the rest of the journey she was perfectly quiet. Especially when in a few moments the birds began to sing again—still more softly and sweetly this time, so that it seemed a kind of cradle song. Whether the children slept or not I cannot tell. I don't think they could have told themselves; but in any case they were very still for a good long while after the serenade had ceased.

      And then once more—clearer and more ringing than before—sounded godmother's voice.

      'Children, look out! The dawn is breaking.'

      And as the strange air-boat slowly relaxed its speed, floating downwards in the direction of some great cliffs almost exactly underneath where it was, the four children sat up, throwing off the fairy mantle which had so well protected them, and gazed with all their eyes, as well they might, at the wonderful beauty of the sight before them.

      For they had sailed up to the eagles' eyrie in time to see the sun rise!

      CHAPTER XI.

       THE EAGLES' EYRIE.

       Table of Contents

      'Where, yonder, in the upper air

       The solemn eagles watch the sun.'

      Did you ever see the sun rise? I hope so; but still I am sure you never saw it from such a point as that whereon their winged conductors gently deposited the castle and the forest children that early summer morning.

      'Jump out,' said the voice they had all learnt to obey, when the air-boat came to a stand-still a few feet above the rock. And the children, who as yet had noticed nothing of the ground above which they were hovering, for their eyes were fixed on the pink and azure and emerald and gold, spreading out like a fairy kaleidoscope on the sky before them, joined hands and sprang fearlessly on to they knew not what. And as they did so, with a murmuring warble of farewell, the birds flapped their wings, and the air-boat rose swiftly into the air and disappeared from view.

      The four looked at each other.

      'Has godmother sailed away in it? I thought she was going to stay with us,' exclaimed Maia in a disappointed tone.

      'Oh, Maia,' said Silva, 'you don't yet understand godmother a bit. But we must not stand here. You know the way, Waldo?'

      'Here,' where they were standing, was, as I said, a rock, ragged and bare, though lower down, its sides were clothed with short thymy grass. And stretching behind them the children saw a beautiful expanse of hilly ground, beautiful though treeless, for the heather and bracken and gorse that covered it looked soft and mellow in the distance, more especially with the lovely light and colour just now reflected from the sky.

      But Waldo turned in the other direction. He walked a little way across the hard, bare rock, which he seemed to be attentively examining, till suddenly he stopped short, and tapped on the ground with a little stick he had in his hand.

      'It must be about here,' he said. The other three children came close round him.

      'Here,' exclaimed Silva, and she pointed to a small white cross cut in the stone at their feet.

      Waldo knelt down, and pressed the spot exactly in the centre of the cross. Immediately a large slab of rock, forming a sort of door, but fitting so closely when shut that no one would have suspected its existence, opened inwards, disclosing a flight of steps. Waldo looked round.

      'This is the short cut to the face of the cliff,' he said. 'Shall I go down first?'

      'Yes, and I next,' said Rollo, eagerly springing forward.

      Then followed Silva and Maia. The flight of steps was a short one. In a few moments they found themselves in a rocky passage, wide enough for them to walk along comfortably, one by one, and not dark, as light came in from little shafts cut at intervals in the roof. The passage twisted and turned about a good deal, but suddenly Waldo stopped, calling out:

      'Here we are! Is not this worth coming to see?'