CHAPTER VI
THE LIONS IN THE DESERT
'But why?' asked Philip at dinner, which was no painted wonder of woodenmake-believe, but real roast guinea-fowl and angel pudding, 'Why do youonly have wooden things to eat at your banquets?'
'Banquets are extremely important occasions,' said Mr. Noah, 'and realfood--food that you can eat and enjoy--only serves to distract the mindfrom the serious affairs of life. Many of the most successful caterersin your world have grasped this great truth.'
'But why,' Lucy asked, 'do you have the big silver bowls with nothing inthem?'
Mr. Noah sighed. 'The bowls are for dessert,' he said.
'But there isn't any dessert _in_ them,' Lucy objected.
'No,' said Mr. Noah, sighing again, 'that's just it. There is nodessert. There has never been any dessert. Will you have a little moreangel pudding?'
It was quite plain to Lucy and Philip that Mr. Noah wished to change thesubject, which, for some reason, was a sad one, and with true politenessthey both said 'Yes, please,' to the angel pudding offer, though theyhad already had quite as much as they really needed.
After dinner Mr. Noah took them for a walk through the town, 'to see thefactories,' he said. This surprised Philip, who had been taught not tobuild factories with his bricks because factories were so ugly, but thefactories turned out to be pleasant, long, low houses, with tall Frenchwindows opening into gardens of roses, where people of all nations madebeautiful and useful things, and loved making them. And all the peoplewho were making them looked clean and happy.
'I wish we had factories like those,' Philip said. 'Our factories _are_so ugly. Helen says so.'
'That's because all your factories are _money_ factories,' said Mr.Noah, 'though they're called by all sorts of different names. Every onehere has to make something that isn't just money or _for_money--something useful _and_ beautiful.'
'Even you?' said Lucy.
'Even I,' said Mr. Noah.
'What do you make?' the question was bound to come.
'Laws, of course,' Mr. Noah answered in some surprise. 'Didn't you knowI was the Chief Judge?'
'But laws can't be useful and beautiful, can they?'
'They can certainly be useful,' said Mr. Noah, 'and,' he added withmodest pride, 'my laws are beautiful. What do you think of this?"Everybody must try to be kind to everybody else. Any one who has beenunkind must be sorry and say so."'
'It seems all right,' said Philip, 'but it's not exactly beautiful.'
'Oh, don't you think so?' said Mr. Noah, a little hurt; 'it mayn't_sound_ beautiful perhaps--I never could write poetry--but it's quitebeautiful when people do it.'
'Oh, if you mean your laws are beautiful when they're _kept_,' saidPhilip.
'Beautiful things can't be beautiful when they're broken, of course,'Mr. Noah explained. 'Not even laws. But ugly laws are only beautifulwhen they _are_ broken. That's odd, isn't it? Laws are very trickythings.'
'I say,' Philip said suddenly, as they climbed one of the steep flightsof steps between trees in pots, 'couldn't we do another of the deedsnow? I don't feel as if I'd really done anything to-day at all. It wasLucy who did the carpet. Do tell us the next deed.'
'The next deed,' Mr. Noah answered, 'will probably take some time.There's no reason why you should not begin it to-day if you like. It isa deed peculiarly suited to a baronet. I don't know why,' he addedhastily; 'it may be that it is the only thing that baronets are goodfor. I shouldn't wonder. The existence of baronets,' he added musingly,'has always seemed to the thoughtful to lack justification. Perhaps thisdeed which you will begin to-day is the wise end to which baronets weredesigned.'
'Yes, I daresay,' said Philip; 'but what is the end?'
'I don't know,' Mr. Noah owned, 'but I'll tell you what the _deed_ is.You've got to journey to the land of the Dwellers by the Sea and, by anymeans that may commend itself to you, slay their fear.'
Philip naturally asked what the Dwellers by the Sea were afraid of.
'That you will learn from them,' said Mr. Noah; 'but it is a very greatfear.'
'Is it something we shall be afraid of _too_?' Lucy asked. And Philip atonce said, 'Oh, then she really did mean to come, did she? But shewasn't to if she was afraid. Girls weren't expected to be brave.'
'They _are_, here,' said Mr. Noah, 'the girls are expected to be braveand the boys kind.'
'Oh,' said Philip doubtfully. And Lucy said:
'Of course I meant to come. You know you promised.'
So that was settled.
'And now,' said Mr. Noah, rubbing his hands with the cheerful air of onewho has a great deal to do and is going to enjoy doing it, 'we must fityou out a proper expedition, for the Dwellers by the Sea are a very longway off. What would you like to ride on?'
'A horse,' said Philip, truly pleased. He said horse, because he did notwant to ride a donkey, and he had never seen any one ride any animal butthese two.
'That's right,' Mr. Noah said, patting him on the back. 'I _was_ soafraid you'd ask for a bicycle. And there's a dreadful law here--it wasmade by mistake, but there it is--that if any one asks for machinerythey have to have it and keep on using it. But as to a horse. Well, I'mnot sure. You see, you have to ride right across the pebbly waste, andit's a good three days' journey. But come along to the stables.'
You know the kind of stables they would be? The long shed with stallssuch as you had, when you were little, for your little wooden horses andcarts? Only there were not only horses here, but every sort of animalthat has ever been ridden on. Elephants, camels, donkeys, mules, bulls,goats, zebras, tortoises, ostriches, bisons, and pigs. And in the laststall of all, which was not of common wood but of beaten silver, stoodthe very Hippogriff himself, with his long, white mane and his long,white tail, and his gentle, beautiful eyes. His long, white wings werefolded neatly on his satin-smooth back, and how he and the stall gothere was more than Philip could guess. All the others were Noah's Arkanimals, alive, of course, but still Noah's Arky beyond possibility ofmistake. But the Hippogriff was not Noah's Ark at all.
'He came,' Mr. Noah explained, 'out of a book. One of the books you usedto build your city with.'
'Can't we have _him_?' Lucy said; 'he looks such a darling.' And theHippogriff turned his white velvet nose and nuzzled against her inaffectionate acknowledgment of the compliment.
'Not if you both go,' Mr. Noah explained. 'He cannot carry more than oneperson at a time unless one is an Earl. No, if I may advise, I shouldsay go by camel.'
'Can the camel carry two?'
'Of course. He is called the ship of the desert,' Mr. Noah informedthem, 'and a ship that wouldn't carry more than one would be simplysilly.'
So _that_ was settled. Mr. Noah himself saddled and bridled the camel,which was a very large one, with his own hands.
'Let me see,' he said, standing thoughtful with the lead rope in hishand, 'you'll be wanting dogs--'
'I _always_ want dogs,' said Philip warmly.
'--to use in emergencies.' He whistled and two Noah's Ark dogs leapedfrom their kennels to their chains' end. They were dachshunds, very longand low, and very alike except that one was a little bigger and a littlebrowner than the other.
'This is your master and that's your mistress,' Mr. Noah explained tothe dogs, and they fawned round the children.
'Then you'll want things to eat and things to drink and tents andumbrellas in case of bad weather, and---- But let's turn down thisstreet; just at the corner we shall find exactly what we want.'
It was a shop that said outside 'Universal Provider. Expeditions fittedout at a moment's notice. Punctuality and dispatch.' The shopkeeper cameforward politely. He was so exactly like Mr. Noah that the children knewwho he was even before he said, 'Well, father,' and Mr. Noah said, 'Thisis my son: he has had some experience in outfits.'
'What have you got to start with?' the son asked, getting to business atonce.
'Two dogs, two children, and a camel,' said Mr. Noah. 'Yes, I know it'scustomary to hav
e two of everything, but I assure you, my dear boy, thatone camel is as much as Sir Philip can manage. It is indeed.'
Mr. Noah's son very dutifully supposed that his father knew best andwillingly agreed to provide everything that was needed for theexpedition, including one best-quality talking parrot, and to deliverall goods, carefully packed, within half an hour.
. . . . . . .
So now you see Philip, and Lucy who still wore her fairy dress, packedwith all their belongings on the top of a very large and wobbly camel,and being led out of the city by the usual procession, with seven bandsof music all playing 'See the Conquering Hero goes,' quite a differenttune from the one you know, which has a name a little like that.
The camel and its load were rather a tight fit for the particulargateway that they happened to go out by, and the children had to stoopto avoid scraping their heads against the top of the arch. But they gotthrough all right, and now they were well on the road which was reallylittle more than a field path running through the flowery meadow countrywhere the dragon had been killed. They saw the Stonehenge ruins and thebig tower far away to the left, and in front lay the vast andinteresting expanse of the Absolutely Unknown.
The sun was shining--there was a sun, and Mr. Noah had told thechildren that it came out of the poetry books, together with rain andflowers and the changing seasons--and in spite of the strange,almost-tumble-no-it's-all-right-but-you'd-better-look-out way in whichthe camel walked, the two travellers were very happy. The dogs boundedalong in the best of spirits, and even the camel seemed less a prey thanusual to that proud melancholy which you must have noticed in yourvisits to the Zoo as his most striking quality.
It was certainly very grand to ride on a camel, and Lucy tried not tothink how difficult it would be to get on and off. The parrot wasinteresting too. It talked extremely well. Of course you understandthat, if you can only make a parrot understand, it can tell youeverything you want to know about other animals; because it understands_their_ talk quite naturally and without being made. The present parrotdeclined ordinary conversation, and when questioned only recited poetryof a rather dull kind that went on and on. 'Arms and the man I sing' itbegan, and then something about haughty Juno. Its voice was soothing,and riding on the camel was not unlike being rocked in a very bumpetycradle. The children were securely seated in things like paddedpanniers, and they had had an exciting day. As the sun set, which it didquite soon, the parrot called out to the nearest dog, 'I say, Max,they're asleep.'
On the top of a very large and wobbly camel.]
'I don't wonder,' said Max. 'But it's all right. Humpty knows the way.'
'Keep a civil tongue in your head, you young dog, can't you?' said thecamel grumpily.
'Don't be cross, darling,' said the other dog, whose name was Brenda,'and be sure you stop at a really first-class oasis for the night. But Iknow we can trust _you_, dear.'
The camel muttered that it was all very well, but his voice was notquite as cross as before.
After that the expedition went on in silence through the deepeningtwilight.
A tumbling, shaking, dumping sensation, more like a soft railwayaccident than anything else, awakened our travellers, and they foundthat the camel was kneeling down.
'Off you come,' said the parrot, 'and make the fire and boil thekettle.'
'Polly put the kettle on,' Lucy said absently, as she slid down to theground; to which the parrot replied, 'Certainly not. I wish you wouldn'trake up that old story. It was quite false. I never did put a kettle on,and I never will.'
Why should I describe to you the adventure of camping at an oasis in adesert? You must all have done it many times; or if you have not doneit, you have read about it. You know all about the well and the palmtrees and the dates and things. They had cocoa for supper. It was greatfun, and they slept soundly and awoke in the morning with a heart forany fate, as a respectable poet puts it.
The next day was just the same as the first, only instead of goingthrough fresh green fields, the way lay through dry yellow desert. Andagain the children slept, and again the camel chose an oasis withremarkable taste and judgment. But the second night was not at all thesame as the first. For in the middle of it the parrot awakened Philip bybiting his ear, and then hopping to a safe distance from his awakeningfists and crying out, 'Make up the camp fire--look alive. It's lions.'The dogs were whining and barking, and Brenda was earnestly trying toclimb a palm tree. Max faced the danger, it is true, but he seemed tohave no real love of sport.
Philip sprang up and heaped dead palm scales and leaves on the dyingfire. It blazed up and something moved beyond the bushes. Philipwondered whether those pairs of shining things, like strayed stars, thathe saw in the darkness, could really be the eyes of lions.
'What a nuisance these lions are to be sure,' said the parrot. 'No, theywon't come near us while the fire's burning, but really, they ought tobe put down by law.'
'Why doesn't somebody kill them?' Lucy asked. She had wakened whenPhilip did, and, after a meditative minute, had helped with the palmscales and things.
'It's not so easy,' said the parrot; 'nobody knows how to do it. Howwould _you_ kill a lion?'
'_I_ don't know,' said Philip; but Lucy said, 'Are they Noah's Arklions?'
'Of course they are,' said Polly; 'all the books with lions in them arekept shut up.'
'I know how you could kill Noah's Ark lions if you could catch them,'Lucy said.
'It's easy enough to catch them,' said Polly; 'an hour after dawn theygo to sleep, but it's unsportsmanlike to kill game when it's asleep.'
'I'm going to think, if you don't mind,' Lucy announced, and sat downvery near the fire. 'It's just the opposite of the dragon,' she saidafter a minute. The parrot nodded and there was a long silence. Thensuddenly Lucy jumped up.
'I know,' she cried, 'oh--I really _do_ know. And it won't hurt themeither. I don't a bit mind killing things, but I do hate hurting them.There's plenty of rope, I know.'
There was.
'Then when it's dawn we'll tie them up and then you'll see.'
'I think you might tell _me_,' said Philip, injured.
'No--they may understand what we say. Polly does.'
Philip made a natural suggestion. But Lucy replied that it was notmanners to whisper, and the parrot said that it should think not indeed.
So, sitting by the fire, all faces turned to where those strange twinstars shone and those strange hidden movements and rustlings stirred,the expedition waited for the dawn. Brenda had given up thetree-climbing idea, and was cuddling up as close to Lucy as possible.The camel, who had been trembling with fear all the while, tried tocuddle up to Philip, which would have been easier if it had been asmaller kind instead of being, as it was, what Mr. Noah's son, theUniversal Provider, had called, 'an out size in camels.'
And presently dawn came, not slow and silvery as dawns come here, butsudden and red, with strong level lights and the shadows of the palmtrees stretching all across the desert.
In broad daylight it did not seem so hard to have to go and look for thelions. They all went--even the camel pulled himself together to join thelion-hunt, and Brenda herself decided to come rather than be left alone.
The lions were easily found. There were only two of them, of course, andthey were lying close together, each on its tawny side on the sandydesert at the edge of the oasis.
Very gently the ropes, with slip knots, were fitted over their heads,and the other end of the rope passed round a palm tree. Other ropesround the trees were passed round what would have been the waists of thelions if lions had such things as waists.
'Now!' whispered Lucy, and at once all four ropes were pulled tight. Thelions struggled, but only in their sleep. And soon they were still. Thenwith more and more ropes their legs and tails were made fast.
'And that's all right,' said Lucy, rather out of breath. 'Where'sPolly?'
'Here,' replied that bird from a neighbouring bush. 'I thought I shouldonly be
in the way if I kept close to you. But I longed to lend a clawin such good work. Can I help _now_?'
'Will you please explain to the dogs?' said Lucy. 'It's their turn now.The only way I know to kill Noah's Ark lions is to _lick the paint off_and break their legs. And if the dogs lick all the paint off their legsthey won't feel it when we break them.'
Polly hastened to explain to the dogs, and then turned again to Lucy.
'They asked if you're sure the ropes will hold, and I've told them ofcourse. So now they're going to begin. I only hope the paint won't makethem ill.'
'It never did me,' said Lucy. 'I sucked the dove quite clean one Sunday,and it wasn't half bad. Tasted of sugar a little and eucalyptus oil likethey give you when you've got a cold. Tell them that, Polly.'
Polly did, and added, 'I will recite poetry to them to hearten them totheir task.'
'Do,' said Philip heartily, 'it may make them hurry up. But perhapsyou'd better tell them that we shall pinch their tails if they happen togo to sleep.'
Then the children had a cocoa-and-date breakfast. (All expeditions seemto live mostly on cocoa, and when they come back they often write to thecocoa makers to say how good it was and they don't know what they wouldhave done without it.) And the noble and devoted dogs licked and lickedand licked, and the paint began to come off the lions' legs likeanything. It was heavy work turning the lions over so as to get at theother or unlicked side, but the expedition worked with a will, and thelions resisted but feebly, being still asleep, and, besides, weak fromloss of paint. And the dogs had a drink given them and were patted andpraised, and set to work again. And they licked and licked for hours andhours. And in the end all the paint was off the lions' legs, and Philipchopped them off with the explorer's axe which that experiencedProvider, Mr. Noah's son, had thoughtfully included in the outfit of theexpedition. And as he chopped the chips flew, and Lucy picked one up,and it was _wood_, just wood and nothing else, though when they hadtied it up it had been real writhing resisting lion-leg and no mistake.And when all the legs were chopped off, Philip put his hand on a lionbody, and that was wood too. So the lions were dead indeed.
It was heavy work turning the lions over.]
'It seems a pity,' he said. 'Lions are such jolly beasts when they arealive.'
'I never cared for lions myself,' said Polly; and Lucy said, 'Nevermind, Phil. It didn't hurt them anyway.'
And that was the first time she ever called him Phil.
'All right, Lu,' said Philip. 'It was jolly clever of you to think of itanyhow.'
And that was the first time he ever called her Lu.
. . . . . . .
They saw the straight pale line of the sea for a long time before theycame to the place of the Dwellers by the Sea. For these people had builttheir castle down on the very edge of the sea, and the Pebbly Waste roseand rose to a mountain that hid their castle from the eyes of thecamel-riders who were now drawing near to the scene of their next deed.The Pebbly Waste was all made of small slippery stones, and the childrenunderstood how horrid a horse would have found it. Even the camelwent very slowly, and the dogs no longer frisked and bounded, butwent at a foot's pace with drooping ears and tails.
'I should call a halt, if I were you,' said Polly. 'We shall all be thebetter for a cup of cocoa. And besides----'
Polly refused to explain this dark hint and only added, 'Look out forsurprises.'
'I thought,' said Philip, draining the last of his second mug of cocoa,'I thought there were no birds in the desert except you, and you're morea person than a bird. But look there.'
Far away across the desert a moving speck showed, high up in the blueair. It grew bigger and bigger, plainly coming towards the camp. It wasas big as a moth now, now as big as a teacup, now as big as an eagle,and----
'But it's got four legs,' said Lucy.
'Yes,' said the parrot; 'it would have, you know. It is the Hippogriff.'
It was indeed that magnificent wonder. Flying through the air with longsweeps of his great white wings, the Hippogriff drew nearer and nearer,bearing on his back--what?
'It's the Pretenderette,' cried Lucy, and at the same moment Philipsaid, 'It's that nasty motor thing.'
It was. The Hippogriff dropped from the sky to the desert below assoftly as a butterfly alighting on a flower, and stood there in all hisgracious whiteness. And on his back was the veiled motor lady.
'So glad I've caught you up,' she said in that hateful voice of hers;'now we can go on together.'
'I don't see what you wanted to come at all for,' said Philipdownrightly.
'Oh, _don't_ you?' she said, sitting up there on the Hippogriff with herhorrid motor veil fluttering in the breeze from the now hidden sea.'Why, of course, I have a right to be present at all experiments. Thereought to be some responsible grown-up person to see that you really dowhat you're sure to say you've done.'
'Do you mean that we're liars?' Philip asked hotly.
'I don't mean to _say_ anything about it,' the Pretenderette answeredwith an unpleasant giggle, 'but a grown-up person ought to be present.'She added something about a parcel of birds and children. And the parrotruffled his feathers till he looked twice his proper size.
Philip said he didn't see it.
'Oh, but _I_ do,' said the Pretenderette; 'if you fail, then it's myturn, and I might very likely succeed the minute after you'd failed. Sowe'll all go on comfortably together. _Won't_ that be nice?'
A speechless despair seemed to have fallen on the party. Nobody spoke.The children looked blank, the dogs whined, the camel put on hishaughtiest sneer, and the parrot fidgeted in his fluffed-out featherdress.
'Let's be starting,' said the motor lady. 'Gee-up, pony!' A shiver ranthrough every one present. That a Pretenderette should dare to speak soto a Hippogriff!
Suddenly the parrot spread its wings and flew to perch on Philip'sshoulder. It whispered in his ear.
'Whispering is not manners, I know,' it said, 'but your own generousheart will excuse me. "Parcel of birds and children." Doesn't your bloodboil?'
Philip thought it did.
'Well, then,' said the bird impatiently, 'what are we waiting for?You've only got to say the word and I'll take her back by the ear.'
'I wish you would,' said Philip from the heart.
'Nothing easier,' said the parrot, 'the miserable outsider! Intrudinginto _our_ expedition! I advise you to await my return here. Or if I amnot back by the morning there will be no objection to your calling,about noon, on the Dwellers. I can rejoin you there. Good-bye.'
It stroked his ear with a gentle and kindly beak and flew into the airand circled three times round the detested motor lady's head.
'Get away,' she cried, flapping her hands furiously; 'call your sillyPoll-parrot off, can't you?' And then she screamed, 'Oh! it's got holdof my ear!'
'Oh, don't hurt her,' said Lucy.
'I will not hurt her;' the parrot let the ear go on purpose to say this,and the Pretenderette covered both ears with her hands. 'You person inthe veil, I shall take hold again in a moment. And it will hurt you muchless if the Hippogriff and I happen to be flying in the same direction.See? If I were you I should just say "Go back the way you came, please,"to the Hippogriff, and then I shall hardly hurt you at all. Don't thinkof getting off. If you do, the dogs will have you. Keep your hands overyour ears if you like. I know you can hear me well enough. Now I amgoing to take hold of you again. Keep your hands where they are. I'm notparticular to an ear or so. A nose will do just as well.'
The person on the Hippogriff put both hands to her nose. Instantly theparrot had her again by the ear.
'Go back the way you came,' she cried; 'but I'll be even with youchildren yet.'
The Hippogriff did not move.
'Let go my ear,' screamed the lady.
'You'll have to say please, you know,' said Philip; 'not to the bird, Idon't mean that: that's no good. But to the Hippogriff.'
'_Please_ then,' said the lady in
a burst of temper, and instantly thewhite wings parted and spread and the Hippogriff rose in the air. Pollylet the ear go for the moment to say:
'I shan't hurt her so long as she behaves,' and then took hold again andhis little grey wings and the big white wings of the Hippogriff wentsailing away across the desert.
'What a treasure of a parrot?' said Philip. But Lucy said:
'Who _is_ that Pretenderette? Why is she so horrid to us when every oneelse is so nice?'
'I don't know,' said Philip, 'hateful old thing.'
'I can't help feeling as if I knew her quite well, if I could onlyremember who she is.'
'Do you?' said Philip. 'I say, let's play noughts and crosses. I've gota notebook and a bit of pencil in my pocket. We might play till it'stime to go to sleep.'
So they played noughts and crosses on the Pebbly Waste, and behind themthe parrot and the Hippogriff took away the tiresome one, and in frontof them lay the high pebble ridge that was like a mountain, and beyondthat was the unknown and the adventure and the Dwellers and the deed tobe done.