The Three Mulla-mulgars

by Walter De la Mare

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The pass grew ever steeper, but now that the travellers were no longerpestered by the Obobbomans they managed to struggle slowly on. And nearabout sunset they had tugged their way to the top, and came out againupon the mountain-side. They spread out their blankets and threwthemselves down, panting, bruised, and outwearied. But they made no firehere yet, because their wood was running short, and all that they hadwould be needed against the small hours of the night. They nibbled attheir blue cheese and a few cold eagle-bones, and, having cut one oftheir skin-bags to pieces, broke up the frozen milk and shared the lumpsbetween them.

  Thumb and Nod crouched down beside Thimble, who was now awake and in hisown mind. And they told him all that had happened since his megrims hadcome on. He was still weak and fretful, and turned his eyes hastily fromsight of the mouldy cheese the Mountain-mulgars were nibbling. But hesucked a few old Ukka-nuts. Then they lifted him gently, and with an armround Thumb's neck and a hand on Nod's shoulder, they walked him awhilequietly in the snow.

  While the brothers were thus walking friendly together, Ghibba gropedhis way up to them.

  "I come, Royal Travellers," he said, "to tell you that here our countryends. Zut lies now behind us. Yonder stretches the Shadow Country, andmy people know the way no farther."

  The three brothers turned their heads to look, and on their cudgel-hand,about two leagues distant, stood Solmi; to the west, and a little infront of them, M[=o][=o]t and Makkri. Upon the topmost edge of thesnow-slope at the foot of which they were now encamped ran a long, lowborder of a kind of thorn-bush, huddling among great rocks and boulders,resembling a little the valleys of the Babbab[=o][=o]mas.

  "You mean, O Man of the Mountains, whose friendship has been our verylives to us," said Thumb, "that now we must journey on alone?"

  "No, Mulla-mulgar; I mean only that here the Moona country, my people'scountry, ends, and therefore that I cannot now be certain of the way tothe Valleys of Tishnar. But this I do know: that beyond here is thickwith the snares of N[=o][=o]manossi. But if the Mulgar Princes and theNizza-neela Eengenares, who saved my kinsman's life, would have it so,and are not weary of our company, then I and my people will journey onwith them till they come to an end. We know from childhood thesedesolate mountains. They are our home. We eat little, drink little, andcan starve as quietly as an icicle can freeze. If need be (and I do notboast, Mulla-mulgars), we Thin-shanks can march softly all day for manydays, and not fall by the way. We are, I think, merely Leather-men, notmeant for flesh and blood. But the Mulla-mulgars have fought with us,and we are friends. And I myself am friend to the last sleep of thesmall Prince, Nizza-neela, who has the colour of Tishnar in his eyes.Shall it be farewell, Travellers? Or shall we journey on together?"

  The brothers looked at the black and thorn-set trees, at the toweringrocks, at the wastes of the beautiful snows. They looked withastonishment at this old, half-blind mountaineer with his lean, sinewyarms, and hill-bent legs, and his bandaged eyes. And Thumb lifted hishands in salutation to Ghibba, as if he were a Mulla-mulgar himself.

  "Why should we lead you into strange dangers, O Man of the Mountains,"he grunted--"maybe to death? But if you ask to come with us, if we haveonly to choose, how can I and my brothers say no? We will at least befriends who do not part while danger is near, and though we never reachthe Valley, Tishnar befriends the Meermuts of the brave. Let us, then,go on together."

  So Ghibba went back to his people, and told them what Thumb had said.And being now agreed together, they all hobbled off but three, who wereleft to guard the bundles, to break and cut down wood, and to see ifperhaps among the thorns grew any nut-trees. But they found none; andfor their pains were only scratched and stung by these waste-trees whichbear a deadly poison in their long-hooked thorns. This poison, like theEnglish nettle, causes a terrible itch to follow wherever the thornsscratch. So that the travellers could get no peace from the stinging anditching except by continually rubbing the parts in snow wherever thethorns had entered.

  And Nod, while they were stick-gathering, kept close to Ghibba.

  "Tell me, Prince of the Mountains," he said, "what are these nets ofN[=o][=o]manossi of which you spoke to my brother Thumb? What is thereso much to fear?"

  Ghibba had sat himself down in the snow to pluck a thorn out of hisfoot. "I will tell the Prince a tale," he said, stooping over hisbundle.

  "Long time ago came to our mountains a Mulgar travelling alone. Mykinsmen think oftener of him than any stranger else, because,Mulla-mulgar, he taught us to make fire. He was wayworn and full ofcourage, but he was very old. And he, too, was journeying to the Valleysof Tishnar. But he was, too, a silent Mulgar, never stirred his tongueunless in a kind of drone at evening, and told us little of himselfexcept in sleep."

  "What was he like?" said Nod. "Was he mean and little, like me, or talland bony, like my brother Thimble, or fat, like the Mulla-mulgar, myeldest brother, Thumb?"

  "He was," said Ghibba, "none of these. He was betwixt and between. Buthe wore a ragged red jacket, like those of the Mulgars, and on hiswoman-hand stood no fourth finger."

  "Was the little woman-finger newly gone, or oldly gone?" said Nod.

  "I was younger then, Nizza-neela, and looked close at everything. Itwas newly gone. The stump was bald and pale red. He was, too, white inthe extreme, this old Mulgar travelling out of Munza. Every single hairhe carried had, as it were, been dipped in Tishnar's meal."

  "I believe--oh, but I do believe," said Nod, "this poor old travellerwas my father, the Mulla-mulgar Seelem, of the beautiful Valleys."

  "Then," said Ghibba, jerking his faggot on to his back, and turningtowards the camp, "he was a happy Mulgar, for he has brave sons."

  "Tell me more," said Nod. "What did he talk about? Did he speak ever ofUmmanodda? How long did he stay with the Mulla-moonas? Which way did hego?"

  "Lead on, then," said Ghibba, peering under his bandage.

  "Here go I," said Nod, touching his paw.

  "He followed the mountain-paths with my own father," said Ghibba, "andlived alone for many days in one of our Spanyards,[7] for he was wornout with travel, and nearly dead from lying down to drink out of aQuickkul-fish pool. But after five days, while he was still weak, herose up at daybreak, crying out in Munza-mulgar he could remain with usno longer. So my people brought him, as I have brought you, to thiseverlasting snow-field, where he said farewell and journeyed on alone."

  [7] I suppose, huts or burrowings.

  "Had he a gun?" said Nod.

  "What is a gun, Nizza-neela?"

  "What then--what then?" cried Nod impatiently.

  "Two nights afterwards," continued the old Mulgar, "some of my peoplecame up to the other end of the gorge of the Long-noses. There theyfound him, cold and bleeding, in his second sleep. The Long-noses hadpelted him with stones till they were tired. But it was not their stonesthat had driven him back. He would not answer when the Men of theMountains came whispering, but sat quite still, staring under his blackarches, as if afraid. After two days more he rose up again, crying outin another voice, like a Moh-mulgar. So we came again with him, two'ropes' of us, along the walks the traveller knows. And towards evening,with his bag of nuts and water-bottle, in his rags of Juzana, he left usonce more. Next morning my father and my people came one or two togetherto where we sit, and--what did they see?"

  "_What_ did they see?" Nod repeated, with frightened eyes.

  "They did see only this," said Ghibba: "footsteps--one-two, one-two,just as the Mulla-mulgar walks--all across the snow beyond thethorn-trees. But they did see also other footsteps, slipping, sliding,and here and there a mark as if the traveller had fallen in the snow,and all these coming _back_ from the thorn-trees. And at the beginningof the ice-path was a broken bundle of nuts strewn abroad, but uneaten,and the shreds of a red jacket. Water-bottle there was none, and Mulgarthere was none. We never saw or heard of that Mulgar again."

  "O Man of the Mountains," cried Nod, "where, then, is my father now?" />
  Ghibba stooped down and peered under his bandage close into Nod's smallface. "I believe, Eengenares, your father--if that Mulgar was yourfather--is happy and safe now in the Valleys of Tishnar."

  "But," said Nod, "he must have come back again out of his wits with fearof the Country of Shadows."

  "Why," said Ghibba, "a brave Mulgar might come back once, twice, tentimes; but while one foot would swing after the other, he might stillarise in the morning and try again. 'On, on,' he would say. 'It isbetter to die, going, than to live, come-back.'"

  And Nod comforted himself a little with that. Perhaps he would yet meethis father again, riding on Tishnar's leopard-bridled Zevveras;perhaps--and he twisted his little head over his shoulder--perhaps evennow his Meermut haunted near.

  "But tell me--tell me _this_, Mountain-mulgar: What was the fear whichdrove him back? What feet so light ran after him that they left noimprint in the snow? Whose shadow-hands tore his jacket to pieces?"

  Ghibba threw down his bundle of twigs, and rubbed his itching arms withsnow.

  "That, Mulla-mulgar," he said, smiling crookedly, "we shall soon findout for ourselves. If only I had the Wonderstone hung in my beard, Ishould go singing."

  Nod opened his mouth as if to speak, and shut it again. He stared hardat those bandaged eyes. He glanced across at the black, huddlingthorn-trees; at the Mountain-mulgars, going and returning with theirfaggots; at Thimble lying dozing in his litter. All the while betwixtfinger and thumb he squeezed and pinched his Wonderstone beneath thelappet of his pocket.

  Should he tell Ghibba? Should he wait? And while he was fretting indoubt whether or no, there came a sharp, short yelp, and suddenly out ofthe thorn-trees skipped a Mountain-mulgar, and came scamperinghelter-skelter over the frozen snow, yelping and chattering as he ran.Following close behind him lumbered Thumb, who hobbled a little way,then stopped and turned back, staring.

  "Why do you dance in the snow, my poor child? What ails you?" mockedGhibba, when the Mountain-mulgar had drawn near. "Have you pricked yourlittle toe?"

  The Mountain-mulgar cowered panting by the fire which Ghibba hadkindled. And for a long while he made no answer. So Nod scrambled on hisfours up the crusted slope of snow. He passed, as he went, two or threeof the Men of the Mountains whimpering and whispering. But none of themcould tell him what they feared. At last he reached Thumb, who was stillstanding, stooping in the snow, staring silently towards the clusteringthorn-trees.

  "What is it, brother?" said Nod, as he came near. "What is it, brother?Why do you crouch and stare?"

  "Come close, Ummanodda," said Thumb. "Tell me, is there anything I see?"They hobbled a little nearer, and stood stooping together with eyesfixed.

  "WHAT IS IT, BROTHER? WHY DO YOU CROUCH AND STARE?"]

  These thorn-trees, as dense as holly, but twisted and huddled, grew notclose together, but some few paces apart, as if they feared each other'scompany. Between them only purest snow lay, on which evening shed itslight. And now that the sun was setting, leaning his beams on them frombehind M[=o][=o]t, their gnarled and spiny branches were all aflame withscarlet. It was utterly still. Nod stood with wide-open eyes. And softlyand suddenly, he hardly knew how or when, he found himself gazing into aface, quiet and lovely, and as it were of the beauty of the air. Hecould not stir. He had no time to be afraid. They stood there, theseclumsy Mulgars, so still that they might have been carved out of wood.Yet, thought Nod afterwards, he was not afraid. He was only startled atseeing eyes so beautiful beneath hair faint as moonlight, between thethorn-trees, smiling out at him from the coloured light of sunset. Then,just as suddenly and as softly, the face was gone, vanished.

  "Thumb, Thumb!" he whispered, "surely I have seen the eyes of awandering Midden of Tishnar?"

  "Hst!" said Thumb harshly; "there, there!" He pointed towards one of thethorn-trees. Every branch was quivering, every curved, speared leaftrembling, as if a flock of silvery Parrakeetoes perched in the upperbranches, where there are no thorns, or as if scores of the tinySpider-mulgars swung from twig to twig. The next moment it wasstill--still as all the others that stood around, afire with the lastsunbeams. Yet nothing had come, nothing gone.

  "Acch magloona nani, Nod," called Thumb, afraid, "lagoosla sul majeela!"

  They scuttled back, without once turning their heads, to the fire, whereall the Hill-mulgars were sitting. Whispering together they were, too,as they nibbled their cheese and sipped slowly from their gurgling,narrow-mouthed bags or bottles. They had carried Thimble close to thefire, and Ghibba was roasting nuts for him. Thumb and Nod came down andseated themselves beside Ghibba, but they had agreed together to saynothing of what they had seen, for fear of affrighting Thimble, who wasstill weak in head and body, and continually shivering. And Nod told hisbrothers all that Ghibba had told him concerning the solitary traveller.And Thumb sat listening, heavy and still, with his great face towardsthe huddling thorns that wooded the height.

  So they talked and talked, sitting together, round about their fire. Thetwigs of these thorns burn marvellous clear with colours, and at eachthorn-tip, as the flame licks near, wells out and gathers a milk-paleglobe of poison that, drying, bursts in the heat. So all the fire iscontinually a-crackle, amidst a thin smoke of a smell like nard. Neverbefore had so bright a bonfire blazed upon these hills. For the Men ofthe Mountains never camp beyond the pass, and the Long-noses have noteven the wits to keep a fire fed with fuel. But as the day wore on, andwhen all the feather-smoke had dispersed, they assembled in hundredsupon hundreds, sitting a long distance off, all their noses stuck outtowards the blaze, snuffing the cloudy fragrance of the nard. But theywere too much afraid of the travellers to venture near now that theywere free men and out of the pass.

  The sun had set, but the moon was at full, and the travellers determinedto go forward at once. It was agreed that every one should carry abundle of sticks on his shoulders, also a stout cudgel or staff; thatthey should march close in rows of four, with Thimble's litter in theirmidst; and that the Mulgar at each corner should carry a burning torch.They made what haste they could to tie up their bundles, bottles, andfaggots, so as to lose nothing of the moon's brilliance during the longnight. She rode unclouded above the snow-fields when the little band ofMulgar-travellers set out. As soon as they were gone, down trooped thelong-nosed Obobbomans to the fire, sniffing and scuffling, to fallasleep at last, higgledy-piggledy, in a great squirrel-coloured ringaround the glowing embers, their noses towards the fire.