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The party left their ponies outside, and crept through the slats of the closed blind into the room. They mounted the bed-post, climbed atop of the carved headboard, and began drumming with their feet and spears upon the solid walnut.
"Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Tat, tat, tat!"
Neither of the sleepers stirred.
"Louder, lads, louder!" shouted the Ensign. "Rat-a-tat! Rat-a-tat! Tat, tat!"
Still the weary couple slept.
"Stop!" called Lawe. "No use! Late hours--late supper--champagne! We must wait and try something better. Away!"
As they descended the bed and scampered back to the window they were greeted by a loud, prolonged nasal serenade from the unconscious pair.
"Puff! pu-ff-ff!--oo,--haw!" breathed Dido quite gently, indeed, after a fas.h.i.+on which goes with some folk by the name of "boiling mush."
"Oo--oogh--ha--aw--_hogh!_" was the answering snore from the Governor's nose, with a tremendous force upon the "hogh!" In fact, it came out with such a sharp explosion, that Wille's head flew forward, and he awoke.
"Wife," said he sleepily--"I say, wife!" and here he gave Dido a little tap under the chin. "Don't snore so loud, please! Why, I--I--really you made a terrible racket. I thought at first that some one was pounding the bedstead!"
Dido was quite awake now, and answered indignantly, "Snore indeed! You'd better talk! Pounding the bedstead! It's too bad!" And thereupon the little lady turned over sharply toward the wall, and composed herself to sleep.
However, the Governor had lost the benefit of Dido's speech; for ere she had finished he was sound asleep, and snoring almost as vigorously as before. Meanwhile the Brownies had returned to their rose-bush retreat ignorant of the amusing scene for which their little feet were responsible.
"To-morrow," said Lawe, "we must succeed. If we can once get the Governor to see, in the early morning, while the dew lies upon their tent-tops and reveals them what a vast camp of our enemies holds our old and rightful quarters, I am sure that he will clear out the usurpers at once!"
"Aye; but how shall we bring that about?" said Corporal Trust.
"We must have help. Come, lads, mount and away!" answered Lawe.
He led his troopers straight toward the orchard. Over the tree-tops they flew; on, up, until at last he halted the party on one of the spreading limbs of Lone Aspen. There the Ensign dismounted and approaching the Lone Aspen the first object upon which his eyes fell was a round, horizontal snare of Uloborus, spread within the hollow of the trunk, where the great gateway opened at the foot. His anger was highly inflamed at the sight, and he forgot his mission in the eager purpose to rout this foe lurking at the doorway of his friend, Madam Breeze. He ran hastily forward and smote the web with his sword until it fell to the ground. Uloborus, who was stretched beneath it on a ribbon-like hammock, tumbled down with the ruins of his...o...b.. and thereat Ensign Lawe fell upon him with his sword. But the Pixie, thinking discretion the better part of valor, dodged the strokes, and shaking himself loose from the fragments of his late beautiful net, ran away at top of his speed, and plunged into the thick gra.s.s around the roots of the tree. Lawe did not think well to follow; and his wrath being somewhat vented, turned again to the errand on which he had come. He climbed the gra.s.s-rope ladder stretched along the trunk, and having reached the upper window at the great knot-hole, blew a shrill blast upon his bugle. The echoes rolled up and down the hollow trunk.
"Oo--oo--oo!"
The round mellow voice of Madam Breeze answered the call, and a moment thereafter the merry Elf bobbed her rubicund face out of the window.
"Hah! who is there? Brownies again, I warrant--Wheeze! More forts to smash? Ho, ho, ho! Why, my sides are aching yet with that last bout. Ho, ho!--Hoogh!" It seemed more likely that the good lady's sides were aching with her hearty laughter.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FIG. 141.--"A Round, Horizontal Snare of Uloborus, Spread Within the Hollow of the Trunk."]
"Didn't we batter them, though?" she ran on. "Down went tents! Down went barricades! Down went fort--Hoogh!" Here Madam gave one of her little coughs. "Well, no, not exactly that, neither. That was too much for us.
But no matter! The vile old den got its deserts anyhow. Ho, ho! Phaugh!
And how's Spite the Spy? Has his breath improved any? Wheeze--Dear me! I doubt if he ever scrubs his teeth. Think of a pure, sweet Breeze-body like myself having to wrestle with such as he! Don't ask me to! No, no!
It's too funny, ho, ho!--Wheeze--hoogh! You see my asthma's no better--Wheeze!"
All this time the Elf had been seated on a broad leaf swinging like a pendulum, and gazing into the clouds. She suddenly stopped and looked into the Ensign's face.
"Dear me!" she cried, "I--I--and so it's not Bruce this time? The rogue--the scamp--the--ah!--Wheeze! How could he dare to deceive me so?--Hoogh!"
For one minute Madam Breeze sat still, actually for a whole minute! The fact is, she was just a trifle afraid of Ensign Lawe, the only one of all the Brownies, by the way, who ever dashed her high spirits a particle. During that moment the good Elf looked as sober as she could then threw her heels up and her head down, and swung away furiously for a few seconds.
"Oho! It's you, is it? Well, things must be serious when Lawe comes a-gossiping to Madam Breeze. Well, well! Cheer up, cheer up, Mr.
Sobersides!
"Shall we, inclined to sadness, Strike melancholy's string?
Oh, no! we'll tune to gladness And merrily, merrily sing Tra, la!"
The Elf trilled these words to a sprightly strain, and wound up with a laugh, a wheeze and a cough. By this time her touch of seriousness had vanished, and she was swinging as l.u.s.tily as ever.
"There now, Mr. Lawe. You see I'm composed and ready for business. Go on with your story. Bad news?--of course! Yes, yes--hoogh! I know something about it--bad! There,--stand still a minute, can't you?--and go on!"
Lawe had stood silent and motionless, all this while, waiting for Madam Breeze to settle herself. But as he saw that this was not likely to happen, he began the story of Brownie disasters, and after many interruptions reached the matter he had in hand.
"Yes, yes! I see it all," said the Elf. "Not another word--it is all right. Here, Whirlit, Keener! Put my ponies Vesper and Vacuum into the chariot--quick!"
The word had scarcely been spoken ere the two pages returned leading a House Martin and a Meadow Lark, who were harnessed to a maple leaf mounted upon wheels of thistledown. The stem of the leaf served as the tongue of the chariot, and the palm of the leaf was bent over at the apex and bent up at the base, so as to make a very pretty fairy coach indeed.
The lark's name was Vesper, the martin's Vacuum, and Madam Breeze had taken the liberty of nicknaming them "Vesp" and "Vac."
"Come; in with you!" cried the good Elf, and suddenly contracting herself into the very smallest compa.s.s, as she was wont at times to do, she bounced into the chariot. The Ensign followed. Whirlit and Keener mounted the bird ponies, and waited for the word of command.
"To the cove. Go!" shouted Madam Breeze; and away the party went over orchard and meadow, over town, bridge and river. They stopped at the summit of a hill that stands at the mouth of the cove, whose brow has been worn by frosts, heats and storms of centuries, until it stands up a bald cliff. The naked rock below has a rough likeness to a human face, and the fringe of bushes underneath gives the idea of a vast beard. The top of the cliff is covered with trees that look in the far distance like tufts of frizzly hair upon the Giantstone's poll. From the midst of these rose (when these records were made) two pine trees. Their tall trunks were quite bare, their bushy branches interlocked closely, and thus was left a goodly sized opening, through which at that time of the year the sun was first seen of mornings coming down into the valley. The fairies called this the Gate of the Sun, and it was to visit four sister Elves who kept this gate that Madam Breeze had now come. The gate stood wide open, for the suns.h.i.+ne was already gone through to the town and hills beyond. In a snug little cave in the limestone front of the hill, a sort of "mouth" to the Giantstone's face, the four Elves lived.
Lawe followed as briskly as possible, swung himself from bough to bough of the overhanging shrubbery, landed upon a narrow ledge, and found his way to the mouth of the Cave of the Clouds. Madam Breeze, now expanded in bodily form to goodly size, had already entered and was bustling around the place calling for the sisters.
"Hi! Cirrus! Ho, Stratus! Here, here--where are you?--Wheeze!"
The dead dry leaves whirled around and around as the merry Elf called, and the echoes answered her voice.
"Ho--e--oh! c.u.mulus! Nimbus! Can't you hear?"
The bustling Elf had no cause to be impatient, for she had scarcely spoken ere four forms slowly rose in the shadows of the inner cave, and began to move deliberately toward the light. The first advanced with airy footstep, shaking about her face a cloud of long curling locks, almost white. She was dressed in a white robe, covered with trellis-work patterns, inwrought with thin silvery streaks. This was Elf Cirrus.
The second sister was a plump, sober-looking Elf, whose hair was gathered in woolly puffs upon her round head, and was a curious mixture of white and black. Her robe was covered with figures of cones, hemispheres and white-topped mountains, which figures were touched here and there with many bright colors. This was c.u.mulus.
Elf Stratus wore a grayish robe flounced with bands of divers colors, many of them edged with bright silver and golden fringe like the rays of the setting sun. Her dark hair was worn smooth, and was crossed by a band of purple ribbons that girdled the crown.
Nimbus, the last of the four sisters, was a gloomy-looking dame, with a kind look in her eyes nevertheless, and a great purse in her hand, through the meshes of which yellow pieces of gold were seen. She was dressed in black, had a gray cloak with fringed edges thrown over her shoulders, and a dainty lace cap upon her head.
"Oho! here you are, then!" cried Madam Breeze as the Elves came forward.
They all bowed as she spoke, and stood quite still when she ceased.
Indeed, the sisters seemed to be curiously affected by Madam Breeze's voice; for all the while that she was speaking they gently swayed their bodies, and moved back and forth through the cave.
"Come now," said Madam Breeze, "you must be quite good-natured, you know. I have a very, very important duty for you. I want to serve my good friends the Brownies--wheeze! Here, Ensign, let me present you.
These are the Cloud Elves." Lawe bowed gravely, and the sisters each made that graceful and dignified courtesy which our grandmothers were taught to be the proper thing on such occasions.
"This is what I want," continued Madam Breeze; "to-morrow morning--wheeze!--do you hear me? To-morrow morning I want to have quite clear. Keep the Gate of the Sun wide open--hoogh! Wide, I say; for we have some good work for my Lord Sol to do over there at Hillside.
Stratus, do you hear, la.s.s?--wheeze! I'm most afraid of you. You're such a regular night owl, and affect the manners of--hoogh!--of those silly humans who wake all night and go to bed at sunrise. But, mark what I say--wheeze!--you must stay at home this night. Not a flounce, not a frill, not a--hoogh!--not a--wheeze!--nothing--(confusion seize this cough!)--of all your fine toggery must be spread between the sun and the gate to-morrow morn. Do you all understand?"
Madam Breeze puffed, and bounded about in a nervous way, mightily stirred up by the necessity for making such a long speech. The sisters bowed several times, and at last Nimbus, who seemed to speak for the others, answered in a deep voice that rolled through the cave and sounded like low distant thunder: "We will keep the gate open, good Mistress Breeze. You know we are always ready to oblige you. Your pleasure shall be our law."