JINGLE ALL THE WAY: 180+ Christmas Classics in One Volume (Illustrated Edition)
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.
'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?'
The passage had changed into a gallery, with the rock on one side only, on the other a railing, to protect those walking along it from a possible fall; for they were right on the face of an enormous cliff, far down at the bottom of which they could distinguish the tops of their old friends the firs. And far as the eye could reach stretched away into the distance, miles and miles and miles, here rising, there again sweeping downwards, the everlasting Christmas-trees!
The passage stopped suddenly. It ended in a sort of little shelf in the rock, and higher up in the wall, at the back of this shelf as it were, the children saw two large round holes cut in the rock: they were the windows of the eagles' eyrie.
Waldo went forward, and with his little stick tapped three times on the smooth, shining rock-wall. But the others, intently watching though they were, could not see how a door opened—whether it drew back inwards or rolled in sidewards. All they saw was that just before them, where a moment before there had been the rock-surface, a great arched doorway now invited them to enter.
Waldo glanced round, though without speaking. The other three understood, and followed him through the doorway, which, in the same mysterious way in which it had opened, was now closed up behind them. But that it was so they hardly noticed, so delighted were they with what they saw before them. It was the prettiest room, or hall, you could imagine—the roof rising very high, and the light coming in through the two round windows of which I told you. And the whole—roof, walls, floor—was completely lined with what, at first sight, the children took for some most beautifully-embroidered kind of velvet. But velvet it was not. No embroidery ever showed the exquisite delicacy of tints, fading into each other like the softest tones of music, from the purest white through every silvery shade to the richest purple, or from deep glowing scarlet to pink paler than the first blush of the peach-blossom, while here and there rainbow wreaths shone out like stars on a glowing sky. It was these wreaths that told the secret.
'Why,' exclaimed Maia, 'it is all feathers!'
'Yes,' said Silva, 'I had forgotten. I never was here before, but godmother told me about it.'
'And where——?' Maia was going on, but a sound interrupted her. It was that of a flutter of wings over their heads, and looking up the children perceived two enormous birds slowly flying downwards to where they stood, though whence they had come could not be seen.
They alighted and stood together—their great wings folded, while their piercing eyes surveyed their guests.
'We make you welcome,' they said at last, in a low soft tone which surprised the children, whose heads were full of the idea that eagles were fierce and their only voice a scream. 'We have been looking for your visit, of which our birds gave us notice. We have ordered a collation to be prepared for you, and we trust you will enjoy the view.'