Chapter II: Part 2

They ran to each other and threw their arms about each other’s necks and kissed, while the white doves flew circling about them. Then they told each other how sorry they were that they had quarrelled, and that they would never do it any more, and then they kissed again.

“And you may have the golden chain, Starlein,” said Silverling.

“No, no! you must keep it,” said Starlein.

“Oh, I know what we’ll do!” cried Silverling; “we’ll give it to this little boy, because if it hadn’t been for him we wouldn’t have found each other.”

“Oh, yes!” said Starlein.

But Teddy held up his hand— “Hush!” he whispered; “don’t you hear it?”

Then they all listened, and sweeter and clearer than ever before they heard the voice of the singing fountain in the beautiful garden.

“It is the fountain!” cried Starlein and Silverling, half fearfully.

They each caught Teddy by the hand, and all ran down the hall together, and the very first corner that they turned they found themselves at the door of the garden.

The wind was blowing the lilies, the fruit on the wonderful trees shone and glistened in the sunlight, and the fountain —ah! the fountain was no longer singing, for the music-box in the nursery had run down.

Teddy looked about him. Instead of the garden there was the flowery India-room. The clock ticked, the fire crackled; —he was back in bed once more, and he heard mamma speaking to Hannah in the hall outside, so he knew she was home again.

“And that is the end of that story,” said the Fairy of the Counterpane.

CHAPTER FOURTH. THE MAGIC CIRCUS

Teddy was still in bed, though the doctor had said that very soon he might have the big chair wheeled up to the window and sit there awhile. Now he was propped up against the pillows playing with the paper circus his mother had brought to him the day before.

His little cousin Harriett had come in yesterday to spend the afternoon with him, and together they had cut out the figures — the clown, the ring-master, the pretty lady on the white horse, the acrobat on his coal-black steed, and all the rest.

This morning he had put some large books under the bedquilt, and smoothed it over them so as to make a flat plane, and was amusing himself setting the circus out, and arranging his soldiers in a long procession as if they were the audience coming to see it.

He seemed so well entertained that his mother said she would go over to the sewing-room for a little while to run up some seams on the machine.

When Teddy was left alone he still went on playing very happily, but as he set out the soldiers two by two, he was really thinking of the Counterpane Fairy and her wonderful stories.

The evening before he had fallen asleep while his mother was reading something to his father (for they both sat in Teddy’s room in the evenings now that he was ill), and when he woke they were talking together about him. They did not see that his eyes were open, so they went on with what they were saying. It was his mother who was speaking. “He’s such an odd child,” she was saying; “just now he is full of this idea of the Counterpane Fairy and her stories, and he talks of her just as though she were real. I don’t know where he got the idea. It isn’t in any of his book and I thought you must have been telling him about it.”

“No,” said papa, “I didn’t tell him.”

“Perhaps it was Harriett,” said mamma, and then she saw that he was awake and began to speak of something else.

Teddy wished his mother could see the Counterpane Fairy herself, and then she would know that it was a real fairy and not a make-believe. When he saw the Counterpane Fairy again he was going to ask her if he mightn’t take his mother into one of the stories with him.

He was thinking of her so hard that it did not surprise him at all to hear her little thin voice just back of the counterpane hill. “Oh dear, dear! and the worst of it is that I hardly get to the top before I have to come down again.”

“Is that you, Counterpane Fairy?” called Teddy.

“Yes it is,” said the fairy. “I’ll be there in a minute;” and soon she appeared above the top of the hill, and seated herself on it to rest, and catch her breath. “Dear, dear!” she said, “but it’s a steep hill.”

“Mrs. Fairy,” said Teddy, “I want to ask you something. You know my mother?”

“Yes,” said the Counterpane Fairy, “I know who she is.”

“Well,” said Teddy, “she’s just gone over into the sewing-room, and I want to know whether you won’t let me take her into a square sometime.”

“My mercy, no!” said the fairy. “Have you forgotten what I told you the first time I came?”

“What was that?”

“I told you I went to see little boys and girls. I don’t go to see grown people. They wouldn’t believe in me.”

“My mother would,” said Teddy. “She plays with me and she likes my books and I tell her all about you.”

“No, no!” cried the Counterpane Fairy, “I couldn’t think of it. I’m very glad to take you into my stories, but if you don’t care to go by yourself —” and she picked up her staff and rose as though she were going.

“Oh, I do, I do!” cried Teddy. “Please don’t go away.”

“Well, I won’t,” said the fairy, sitting down again, “if you really want me to show you another. Have you chosen a square?”

“No, I haven’t yet,” said Teddy. He looked the squares over very carefully, and at last he chose the black-and-white one where the circus was standing.

“Very good,” said the fairy. “Now I’m going to begin to count.” Teddy fixed his eyes on the square and she commenced.

Gradually he began to feel as though the white silk of the square was a pale cloudy sky. Before him stretched a white streak, and in the distance were some things like black squares; he did not know quite what.

“FORTY-NINE!” cried the fairy.

When Teddy looked about him he and the Counterpane Fairy were journeying along a dusty white road together, and the fairy looked just as any little old woman might, except that her eyes were so bright behind her spectacles.

Before them lay a city with black roofs and spires; there was a sound of drums and music in the distance, and a faint noise as though a crowd of people were shouting a great way off.

“What are they doing over there?” asked Teddy, hurrying his steps a little. “Is it a parade?”

“No,” said the fairy, “it’s not a parade, but it is a grand merrymaking, and it’s because of it that I’ve brought you here. But I’m tired and hungry, for we’ve come a long way, so let us sit down by the roadside a bit, and while we rest I’ll tell you all about the goings on and what we have to do with them.”

Teddy was quite willing, so he and the Counterpane Fairy sat down together on the soft grass beside the road, with the mild and misty sky overhead, and the fairy took from her pocket a piece of bread and cheese; she broke it in half and one part she gave to Teddy. It seemed to him that he had never tasted anything so good, for, as the fairy remarked, they were both of them hungry.

After they had finished it all to the very last bit, the fairy brushed the crumbs from her lap, and, sitting there with the soft wind blowing about them and the black roofs of the city in the distance, the Counterpane Fairy told him the story of the King of the Black-Country and the Princess Aureline.

“Far off yonder toward the east, where the sky looks so pale and bright,” began the fairy, “there lives a king, who is called King Whitebeard, because his beard is as white as snow. He had only one child, a daughter named the Princess Aureline, and she was as beautiful as the day and as good as she was beautiful.

“Because she was so good and beautiful princes used to come from all over the world seeking her hand in marriage, and among them came the King of the Black-Country, the richest and most powerful of them all.

“The Princess Aureline would have nothing to say to him, however, because he was wicked as well as rich, so at last the King of the Black-Country gathered his army together and marching against King Whitebeard he conquered him and carried off the Princess Aureline captive.

“Now there are great rejoicings in the Black King’s country, but the Princess Aureline sits and grieves all the time, and nothing the King can do can make her smile. The more the Black King does, the more she grieves, but she is so very beautiful that the King would deny her nothing except to let her go home to her father.”

“I should like to see a princess,” said Teddy.

“So you shall,” said the fairy, “for you are a great magician now, and you have come here to do what no other hero in the world dares to do; you have come to rescue the Princess Aureline and carry her back to her own country.”

“Do you mean I am a real magician?” asked Teddy.

“Why, yes,” said the fairy. “Don’t you see you are dressed in a magician’s robe? And there is your magic-chest on the grass beside you. Look!” So saying the fairy drew a mirror of polished steel from under her cloak and held it up before Teddy, and as he looked into it he hardly knew himself; he was dressed in a black hood, and a long black robe strangely woven about the hem with characters in white, and he held a white staff in his hand. Beside him on the grass was a box bound round with iron, and that was his magic-box.

After he had looked in the mirror for a while the fairy hid it away again under her cloak. “Now come,” she said, “for it is time we were journeying on.”

“But what have I in my box?” asked Teddy, as he picked it up and joined the fairy, who was already hobbling along toward the city.

“Don’t you remember?” said the fairy. “It’s your circus.”

“Oh, yes, I remember now,” said Teddy.

After a while he and the fairy reached the city, and everywhere along the street were people laughing and dancing and feasting, and all the houses were hung with white and black flags. The black flags were for the King of the Black-Country, and the white flags were for the Princess Aureline. Everywhere they came the people made way for them and whispered, “Look! look! That is the great magician who had come to show his magic before the Princess Aureline.”

At last they reached an open square, and there was the greatest crowd of all. On a raised platform covered with silver cloth, and with steps leading up to it, were two thrones; upon one of the thrones sat a tall, fierce-looking man dressed in black velvet, and with a crown upon his head cut entirely from one great black diamond; upon the other throne sat a beautiful young princess. She was as pale as a lily and as beautiful as the day, and was dressed in shimmering white. Her hands were clasped in her lap and her face was very sad.

On the steps that led to this platform stood two heralds in black and white with trumpets in their hands, and all about were ranged soldiers two and two. They made Teddy think of the toy soldiers he had been playing with, only they were as big as men, and instead of being gay with red paint they were in black.

As soon as Teddy and the Counterpane Fairy appeared in this square, the two heralds blew a loud blast and come down to meet them. “Make way! make way for the magician!” they cried, and they escorted him and the fairy through the crowd to the foot of the steps.

The King of the Black-Country stared at him, and his eyes were so black and piercing that Teddy felt afraid.

“Are you the great magician?” he asked.

“Yes, I am,” answered Teddy, bowing.

“Then let us see some of this magic that we have been hearing about,” said the King; “and harkye, Magician, if you can make the Princess smile you shall have whatsoever you wish, even to the half of my treasure.”

Teddy bowed again, and then he set the chest on the ground, and drawing from his girdle an iron key he unlocked it and put back the lid. There was the paper circus, just as he and Harriett had cut it out: the acrobat and the lovely lady, the horses, the clown, the ring-master, — not one of them was left out.

With his magic wand, Teddy drew upon the ground a circle, and then, while everybody round craned and stretched their necks to see what he was about, he took out the figures and set them, one by one, in the ring. Then he waved his wand over them and cried “Abraca-dabraca-dee!”

All the people stood on tiptoes, and the King himself leaned forward to see, — but nothing happened.

“Abraca-dabraca-dee!” cried Teddy again.

Still nothing happened; he looked around at the crowd of people, at the grim-looking soldiers, and the King, and his heart sank.

“Abraca-dabraca-dee!” he cried for the third time, striking the ground with his wand.

Then a wonderful thing happened. The circle he had drawn upon the ground began to spread, just as a circle does in the water after one has thrown a stone into it. Now it was a great circus ring, and the paper circus itself had changed to a real circus. The clown walked about, joking, with his hands in his pockets; the ring-master cracked him whip; the paper horses were two magnificent steeds, one as black as night, and one as white as milk, that cantered round and round, while the music sounded, and all the people far away on the outside of the ring clapped and applauded.

“Wonderful! wonderful!” cried the King of the Black-Country.

But now there was something more that was wonderful. As the black horse cantered round, Teddy ran to him and leaped upon his back, light as a feather, and there he rode, his black robe with the white figures flying and fluttering around him.

Then, still riding around, he unfastened his gown and threw it from him, and there he was dressed in white and silver, and his magic wand was changed to a little silver whip.

After that he leaped up into the air, and turned a somersault, lighting again upon his horse, while the music played louder and louder.

Teddy rode round and round, now riding backward, now forward, now on one foot, now on his hands with his feet in the air. Then he leaped upright, and putting his fingers to his mouth he gave a shrill whistle. At that the white steed suddenly dashed into the ring and galloped up beside the black one, and now Teddy rode with a foot on each. Faster and faster he rode, crying “Houp-la!” and even the King clapped his hands. Once and twice he rode round the ring and past the platform, but as they came round for the third time, Teddy waved his whip in the air. “Houp-la!” he cried. “Up! up!”

With that his steeds suddenly leaped from the ring and up the steps of the platform to the very top. There Teddy sprang from them and caught the Princess Aureline by the hand. “I have come to rescue you!” he cried, and before the King could move or speak he had set her upon the white horse, he had sprung upon the black, and with a clatter of hoofs they were dashing down the steps and across the square.

Then the King of the Black-Country started to his feet. “Stop them! stop them!” he cried.

The soldiers had been standing as though turned to stone, but at the King’s voice they started forward, reaching out to catch the bridles of the horses, but again Teddy raised his magic whip.

“Abraca-dabraca-dee! As you were once you shall be!”

h e cried.

At the magic words every soldier’s arm fell by his side, their eyes changed to little black dots, their faces grew rounder, their legs stiffened, and there they stood, nothing more nor less than wooden soldiers just like the one —_were_ they his own soldiers? And the Princess! Was she only the doll that Harriett had forgotten the night before and that Teddy had set up against his knees to watch the show? Were the streets only black and white silk?

There he was, back in his own room with the little wooden soldiers and the paper circus. There was the square of silk with the book under it, and the Counterpane Fairy sitting on his knees.

“Oh! but, Counterpane Fairy,” cried Teddy, “what became of us? Did we get away? Oh, I didn’t want to come out of the story just yet!”

“Why, of course you escaped,” said the fairy. “How could the King stop you after you had changed his soldiers into wood?”

“And what became of you?” asked Teddy.

“Oh, I took the clown’s cap,” said the fairy, “for it was the wishing-cap, and fast as you and the Princess rode back to the country of King Whitebeard I was there before you.”

Teddy thought for a while and then he heaved a deep sigh. “I wish I really had a circus horse,” he said, “and could ride round and have all the people watching and shouting. But what did the Princess say when she found I had rescued her?”

“Hark!” said the fairy, “isn’t that your mother coming along the hall? I must be going. Oh, my poor bones! What a hill it is to go down! Oh dear, dear, dear!”

CHAPTER FIFTH. AT THE EDGE OF THE POLAR SEA

The crocuses are up on the lawn,” said Teddy’s mother, who was standing at the window and looking out. “And just hear that blackbird! I always feel as though spring were really here when I hear the blackbirds sing.”

Teddy was still in bed. It seemed to him sometimes that he had spent his whole life lying there in the India-room, under the silk counterpane, and that it was some other Teddy who used to go to school and shout and play with the boys in the street.

“I wish I could go out-of-doors the way I used to,” he said.

“So do I,” said mamma. “But never mind, darling. The doctor says it won’t be so very long now before you can be out again, and this afternoon we’ll play some nice game or other that you can play in bed. Now what would you like it to be?” But before Teddy could answer she added, “Oh dear! There comes Aunt Mariah.”

Aunt Mariah lived down at the other end of the village, and she generally came every fortnight to spend an afternoon with Teddy’s mother. She always brought her knitting in a bag, and a white net cap that she put on before the glass as soon as she had taken her bonnet off.

Teddy liked to have her come, her needles flew so fast, and she used to recite to him, —

“A was an archer, and shot at a frog; B was a butcher, and had a great dog.”

Then when he was tired of sitting with her and mamma, he could run out-of-doors and play.

But he found it was different to-day from what it had been before. He was still weak from his illness, and after she had told him all the verses that she knew, he grew weary of hearing her talk of Cousin George’s wife, and Mrs. Appleby’s rheumatism.

His mother saw that he was growing restless and that his cheeks were flushed, so she asked Aunt Mariah to come over to her room to look at some calico she had been buying.

When they had gone Teddy lay for a time enjoying the silence of the room, but after a while it began to seem too still and the clock ticked with a strange loud sound. He wished Aunt Mariah would go away and let mamma come back again. It was so lonely, and he was tired of his books.

He was lying on his back, and presently he drew up his knees, and then over the tops of them he could only see the upper half of the window, and the tips of the pine-trees against the still blue sky outside.

“Oh dear, dear, dear!” said the Counterpane Fairy’s voice just behind the hill. “Steeper than ever to-day. Will I ever get to the top?” A minute after he saw her little figure standing on the hill, dark against the sky, and the staff in her hand like a thin black line.

“Oh, dear Counterpane Fairy!” cried Teddy, “have you come to show me another story?”

“Are you sure you want to see one?” asked the Counterpane Fairy.

“Oh, yes, yes, I do!” cried Teddy. “Your stories don’t make me feel tired the way Aunt Mariah’s do.”

The fairy shook her head. “I thought her stories were very pleasant,” she said.

“So they are,” said Teddy, “but I like her stories best when I’m all well, and I like your stories best when I’m sick. Besides I only hear her stories and I see yours.”

The fairy smiled. “Well, then, which square will you choose this time?” she said.

“I think I would like that one,” said Teddy, pointing to a square of watered ribbon that shaded from white to a sea-green.

“That’s rather a long story,” said the fairy, doubtfully.

“Oh, please show it!” begged Teddy.

“Well,” said the Fairy, “fix your eyes on it while I count.”

Then she began and he heard her voice going on and on. “FORTY-NINE!” she cried.

Teddy was floating on a block of ice across the wide, green Polar sea. The Counterpane Fairy was with him, and all around were great fields of ice and floating white bergs. The air was very still and cold, but Teddy liked it all the better for that, for now he was an ice-fairy. He was dressed from head to foot in a suit that shone and sparkled like woven frost, and in his belt was a knife as shining as an icicle. Something kept bobbing and tickling his forehead, and when he caught hold of it he found it was the end of the long cap he wore.

As they drifted along, sometimes they saw a walrus with long tusks lying on the ice, or a soft-eyed seal. Once some strange little beings that looked like dwarfs, with goggle eyes and straggling black hair, caught hold of the block of ice, and lifting themselves out of the water made faces at Teddy, but the moment they saw the Counterpane Fairy their looked changed to one of fear, and with a queer gurgling cry they dropped from the ice and were gone.

“What were those things?” asked Teddy.

“They were ice-mermen,” said the Counterpane Fairy. “Naughty, mischievous things they are. I’d like to pack them all off to the North Pole if I could.”

“Oh, look! look!” cried Teddy. “Just look at those little bears playing over there.”

They had drifted in quite near to the shore, and in among the blocks of ice three white bear cubs were playing together like fat little boys. They were climbing to the top of an ice-hillock and then sliding down again.

As soon as they saw Teddy and the Counterpane Fairy they began to call: “Oh, Father Bear! Father Bear! Just come look at these funny things floating in to shore on a block of ice.”

In a moment from behind the ice-hill came a great white father bear galloping up as fast as he could to see what the matter was. He came over toward Teddy growling, “Gur-r-r! gur-r-r-r! Who are you, coming and frightening my little bears this way?” But as soon as he saw the Counterpane Fairy he grew quite humble. “Oh, excuse me,” he said. “I didn’t know it was a friend of yours.”

“Yes, it is,” said the fairy, “and I have brought him here to stay awhile. Will you take good care of him?”

“Yes, I will,” said Father Bear. “He shall sleep in the cave with us and have part of our meat if he will, and I will be as careful of him as though he were one of my own cubs.”

“Very well,” said the fairy; “mind you do.” Then turning to Teddy she bade him step on shore.

“But aren’t you coming too?” asked Teddy.

“No,” said the Counterpane Fairy, “I can’t come, but Father Bear will take good care of you.” So Teddy stepped onto the shore, and the fairy pushed the block of ice out into the water, and waving her hand to him she drifted away across the open sea.

The Father Bear stood watching her until she was out of sight, and then he turned to Teddy. “Now, you Fairy,” he said, “you may climb up onto my back, and I’ll carry you to my wife; she’ll take good care of you for as long as the Counterpane Fairy chooses to leave you here.”

The three little bears cubs had disappeared, but as soon as the Father Bear carried Teddy around the hill of ice he saw what had become of them. They were sitting with the Mother Bear at the door of a cave. One of them was sucking its paws, and the other two were talking as fast as they could. The Mother Bear looked worried and anxious.

“What’s all this Dumpy and Sprawley are telling me?” she said. “And what’s that you have on your back?”

“It’s an ice-fairy,” growled old Father Bear, “and the Counterpane Fairy wants us to take care of it for a while. You don’t mind, my dear, do you?”

“Oh dear, dear!” said the Mother Bear, “I suppose not, but what shall we give it to eat, and how shall we keep it?”

“Oh, it will do just the other cubs do, I suppose,” said the Father Bear. Then turning to Teddy he said, “You eat meat, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Teddy, timidly.

“Then that’s all right,” said the Father Bear. “Here, you children, take this fairy off and let him play with you.”

Two of the little bears, Fatty (who was the one who had been sucking his paws) and Dumpy, were delighted to have a new playmate, and they told him he might come over and slide down their hill, but the third one, Sprawley, scowled and grumbled. “Another one to be eating up our meat,” he said. “Just as if there weren’t enough of us without.”

Still he went over with them to the icehill and they all began sliding down.

After a while Sprawley said: “I know a great deal nicer hill than this one. It’s just a little farther on; come on and I’ll show it to you.”

“Oh,” said Fatty, “but suppose we should see some ice-mermen?”

“Pooh!” said Sprawley, “I ain’t afraid. It’s a great deal nicer than this. Come on.”

So the three little bears and Teddy trotted on to another hill, and it really was much longer and steeper than the other; it went down almost to the edge of the sea.

They had slidden down it only a few times when Dumpy cried out: “Oh! look! look! There are some ice-mermen and they are making faces at me.”

There they were, sure enough, looking over the edge of the ice, — ugly little gray things with mouths like fishes, and they were making faces, and presently they began to sing, —

“Bear cubs! Bear cubs! Look at their toes; Look at their ears and their hair and their nose. The great big walrus will surely come To eat up the bear cubs and give us some.”

Dumpy growled at them, though he was frightened, but Fatty began to cry.

Just then one of the mermen sent a piece of ice sliding across at them, and it hit Fatty’s paws and upset her. She was so fat that she rolled over and over before she could get up. Dumpy ran to her, and as soon as she was on her feet again they began galloping toward home as fast as they could, followed by Sprawley and Teddy.

As they ran along Teddy saw that Sprawley was shaking all over, and he thought it was because he was afraid, until he caught up to him; then he saw that he was laughing. “What are you laughing at?” he asked, but Sprawley only showed his teeth and growled in answer.

When they reached the cave and told the Mother Bear about the mermen she scolded them well for going so near the edge of the water, and said it was time for them to go to bed. Father Bear was going on a hunt the next day, and he was going to let the cubs go part of the way with him, so they must have a good rest.

The Mother Bear gave them each their share of seal meat, and then she went into the cave.

“Oh, Fatty,” said Sprawley, “just look behind you and see if you don’t see a merman.”

Fatty turned her head, but there was nothing there. When she looked back again she burst into a loud whine. “Ou-u-u! ou-u-u-u!” she cried, “Sprawley stole my nicest piece of meat, so he did. Ou-u-u!”

Out shuffled Mother Bear in a hurry. “You naughty cub,” she cried, aiming a blow at Sprawley’s ear. But quick as a wink Sprawley slipped behind Dumpy, and it was upon Dumpy that the blow fell.

And now Dumpy joined in with his sister. “Ou-u-u!” he cried.

“There, there!” cried the poor Mother Bear, “don’t you cry any more and I’ll give you each an extra piece of meat.”

So they stopped crying and ate their suppers contentedly, and after that they all went to bed, and the little cubs had hardly lain down before they were fast asleep.

Teddy did not go to sleep, however. He lay looking at the ice-roof of the cave and thinking how strange it was to be there. Presently he heard the Mother Bear say very softly, “Husband, husband, are you awake?”

“Yes, I am,” said the Father Bear. “What do you want?”

The Mother Bear sighed. “I don’t know how it is, husband,” she said, “but I never had a cub like Sprawley before. He is so naughty and mischievous that he keeps his little brother and sister whining all the time.”

“You ought to box him,” said the Father Bear.

“That’s all very well,” said the Mother Bear, “but when I try to box him he slips behind the others and pushes them forward, and he is so quick that twice I have boxed Dumpy instead of him by mistake.”

The Father Bear grunted and they were silent for a while, but presently the Mother Bear began again, more softly than ever. “Do you know, husband, sometimes I wonder whether Sprawley can really be my cub. If I could only count them I might find out. If there were only one and one I could count them, but there are more than one and one.”

“Well,” said Father Bear, “I should think that would be easy. Let’s see. There’s Dumpy, and he’s one, and Fatty, and she’s one, and Sprawley, and he’s one. And now how many does that make?”

“Oh dear!” said the Mother Bear, “Don’t ask me. My head’s all of a whirl already.”

“Then you’d better go to sleep, my dear,” said her husband. “The next thing you know you’ll be having a headache to-morrow. You think too much.”

“Yes,” said the Mother Bear, sighing, “That’s so; I suppose I do think too much, but then I can’t help it. I always was thinking ever since I was a cub. It’s the way I’m made. Good-night.”

“Good-night,” said the Father Bear, and then they, too, went to sleep.

Teddy seemed to be the only one left awake. Dumpy kept crowding up against him and snoring with his nose close to Teddy’s ear. Teddy pushed him once or twice, but it didn’t seem to make any difference. Once he poked him so hard that the little bear gave a snort and stopped snoring for a while, but soon he began again.

But after all Teddy found he was not the only one in the cave who was not asleep. Sprawley, who was lying on the other side of Fatty, had began to stir and sit up; he looked about at the sleeping bears, and then very quietly began to edge himself toward the mouth of the cave.

Once the Mother Bear gave a low growl in her sleep and Sprawley stopped still to listen, but she didn’t waken.

Teddy wondered what Sprawley was going to do, and so, as soon as the cub had disappeared through the mouth of the cave, he too crawled over to the opening.

When he looked out he saw Sprawley shuffling over the fields of ice in the distance, and already quite far away, so, led by his curiosity, Teddy, too, crept out of the cave and set off running after the bear cub.

He ran on and on until he was quite close to Sprawley, and then he saw the cub pause at the edge of a strip of open water, and turn to look behind him to make sure that he was not followed. He did not see Teddy, for the fairy had hidden quickly behind a block of ice.

Sprawley turned toward the water again and gave a long, quavering cry that sounded like a call. He listened, but everything was silent except for the rumbling and cracking of the ice in the distance. Again he called, and this time there was an answering cry, and another, and another. Sprawley stood up and waved his paws, and then Teddy saw that the open water was dotted with heads of ice-mermen; there must have been ten or twelve of them at least.

They swam over to where Sprawley stood, and climbing out on the ice they seemed to be welcoming him, hopping and sliding about, and pulling at his hair and claws. Now that Teddy saw them quite close they were uglier than ever, with goggle eyes, and rough, fishy-looking skins.

They all sat on the edge of the ice, and now and then one of them would dive off, to reappear again, all wet and glistening, and then it would climb up and sit on the ice again in a row with the others. They all talked together, and their voices were so queer and husky that Teddy could not understand what they were saying at first. At last he made out that they were asking Sprawley about him, —where he had come from, and how.

“Well, I’ll tell you how he came,” said Sprawley, and all the mermen stopped to listen. Sprawley, too, was silent for a moment, and then he said in a low, impressive voice, “The Counterpane Fairy brought him.”

There was a long, quavering cry from the mermen, and several of them dived off into the water and did not reappear again for some minutes; when they did, their faces were all wrinkled up with anxiety.

They climbed up onto the edge of the ice and sat there blinking at the sky for a while in silence; then one of them said in a trembling voice, “Well, we haven’t been doing anything but just frightening the bear cubs a little.”

“How about knocking Fatty down with a piece of ice?” asked Sprawley, derisively.

“Scritchy did that,” cried all the mermen but one. “We didn’t do it. Scritchy did that.”

The merman who hadn’t spoken, and who was Scritchy, still did not say a word. He looked at the others with his goggle eyes and then he tumbled off into the water and swam away as fast as he could and did not come back any more.

All the other mermen looked after him in silence until he had disappeared; then one of them said in an awe-struck voice, “It’s bad for you, Sprawley, ain’t it? Just think what you’ve been doing.”

“Pooh,” said Sprawley, pretending he was not frightened, “what do I care? I can fix it all right.”

“How?” asked all the mermen together.

“Well, listen, and I’ll tell you,” said Sprawley. “To-morrow Father and Mother Bear are going hunting, and all of us little cubs are to go with them. I suppose this strange fairy cub will go with us, and when we stop to rest I’ll get him away from the others and near the edge of the water. You must come under the ice and break off the piece he is standing on, and float him far, far away toward the South until he melts.”

“Yes, yes! we’ll do it,” cried all the mermen jumping about and shouting. Then they turned to Sprawley. “Come,” they cried, “let’s have a game in the water before you go back.”

“That I will,” said Sprawley, and with that what should he do but strip off his bear-skin just as though it were a coat, and there he was, nothing more nor less than a merman who had been dressed up in an old skin, pretending to be a bear cub.

Sprawley and all the other mermen dived off into the water and began splashing and shrieking and pulling at each other and getting farther and farther away.

“All the same, I don’t think you’ll float me off,” said Teddy to himself.

Very quietly he crept to where the bear-skin lay on the ice, and taking out his knife he cut a long slit up the back of it. Then not waiting for the mermen to come back he hurried home again over the ice to the bears’ cave, and crawling in he laid himself down again between the sleeping cubs.

The little bears were beginning to stir themselves and the Mother Bear was yawning and stretching when Sprawley came sneaking into the cave again.

“Why! why!” said the Mother Bear, “where have you been?”

“I ain’t been anywhere,” said Sprawley. “I just thought I heard a sea-lion roaring and I went out to see.”

“Well, there’s no use your going to sleep again,” said the Father Bear, “for we have to go a long ways to-day, and it’s time we were getting ready to start now.”

With that he shuffled out of the cave, followed by the Mother Bear, and stood looking about him. Presently the cubs came out, too, still blinking with sleep.

“Oh, Mother!” cried Dumpy, “just look at Sprawley’s back!”

“Why, what’s the matter with it?” asked the Mother Bear.

“There ain’t anything the matter with it,” growled Sprawley, twisting his head round and trying to see.

“Yes, there is too!” cried Fatty. “Oh my! Sprawley’s splitting hisself all down the back.”

“Why! why!” cried the Father Bear, “what’s this?” He shuffled over and looked at Sprawley’s back, and then without a word he began to tear and pull at the bear-skin. In another minute he had it off, and there stood the merman shivering and blinking at them with his mouth open like a gasping fish.

“Oh dear! oh dear!” cried the Mother Bear, turning whiter than ever. “He’s not my cub after all,” and she sat down and began to whine and cry. But Father Bear gave a growl, and rising on his hind legs he fetched the merman a cuff that sent him tumbling head over heels across the ice.

Father Bear was after him, but before he could reach him the merman was up and running for the open strip of water in the distance. Father Bear chased him the whole way; sometimes he caught him and gave him a cuff that sent him flying, but at last the merman reached the water and dived into it. He must have had a sore head for days afterward, however.

When the Father Bear came back again, he was panting and growling. “There,” said he, “I guess that’s the last time any of the mermen will try to play their tricks on us. Come, come,” he went on, “it’s time we were off for our hunting.”

But the Mother Bear only shook her head. She had been doing nothing since she saw that Sprawley was an ice-merman but sit and rock herself backward and forward and whine. “I couldn’t go, my dear; I couldn’t indeed,” she said. “I’m all of a tremble now to think how that dreadful merman has been playing with Fatty and Dumpy day after day and I never knew it.”

“Then I’ll go by myself,” said Father Bear, gruffly, “and leave the children home with you. But you can go, Fairy,” he said to Teddy. “I’ll carry you on my back if you like, and maybe you’ll see me catch a young walrus. I suppose it was you who split him down the back, as the Counterpane Fairy brought you.”

“Yes, sir, it was,” said Teddy, timidly; “but I’m afraid I can’t go with you; I’m afraid I’m going back,” —for the bears, the fields of ice, the far-off green water, were all wavering and growing misty before his sight. Faintly he heard the voices of the bear cubs: “Owie! owie! don’t go away”; for they had grown fond of him the day before.

Then their voices died away. He was back in the old familiar room with the Counterpane Fairy perched upon his knees, and a bunch of snowdrops in the vase beside the bed. The door opened and his mother stood holding the knob in her hand and speaking to Hannah outside, and in that moment the Counterpane Fairy was gone.

CHAPTER SIXTH. THE RUBY RING

The next day, in spite of the doctor’s promises, Teddy was not allowed to sit up.

It was a raw, blustering day, and every feeling of spring seemed gone from the air; the wind rattled at the windows, and Hannah built up the fire until it roared.

Teddy did not feel much disappointed at not being allowed to sit up, for Harriett came over with her paint-box, and they began coloring the pictures in some old magazines that mamma gave them; the bed was littered with the pages.

After a while mamma left them and went down into the kitchen to bake a cake.

“I wish I had brought my best apron over,” said Harriett, “for then I could have stayed for dinner if you wanted me to.”

“Why can’t you stay anyhow?” asked Teddy.

“Oh, I can’t,” said Harriett. “I must go to dancing-class right after dinner, and I have to wear my apron with the embroidered ruffles.”

“Harriett, why don’t you go home and get it, and then perhaps you could have diner up here with me; wouldn’t you like that?”

“Yes, but maybe Aunt Alice doesn’t want me to stay.”

“Yes, she does,” said Teddy. “I know she does, because she said she was so glad to have you come and amuse me.”

“Well, I’ll go home and ask my mother. I don’t know whether she’ll let me.”

“You won’t stay long, will you?”

“No, I won’t,” promised Harriett. Then she put on her jacket and hat and ran down-stairs.

Teddy went on with his painting by himself for a while, but it seemed to him Harriett was gone a long time. He called his mother once, and she came to the foot of the stairs and told him she couldn’t come up just yet.

Then Teddy began thinking of the Counterpane Fairy, and the stories she had shown him. He wondered if she wouldn’t come to see him to-day. She always came when he was lonely, and he was quite sure he was getting lonely now. Yes, he knew he was.

“Well,” said a little voice just back of the counterpane hill, “it’s not quite so steep to-day, and that’s a comfort.” There was the little fairy just appearing above the tops of his knees, — brown hood, brown cloak, brown staff, and all. She sat down with her staff in her hand and nodded to him, smiling. “Good-morning,” she said.

“Good-morning,” said Teddy. “Mrs. Fairy, I was wondering whether you wouldn’t like it if I kept my knees down, and then there wouldn’t be any hill.”

“No,” said the fairy, “I like to be up high so that I can look about me, only it’s hard climbing sometimes. Now, how about a story? Would you like to see one to-day?”

“Oh, yes!” cried Teddy. “Indeed, I would.”

“Then which square will you choose? Make haste, for I haven’t much time.”

“I think I’ll take that red one,” said Teddy.

“Very good,” said the fairy, and then she began to count.

As she counted, the red square spread and glowed until it seemed to Teddy that he was wrapped in a mist of ruddy light. Through it he heard the voice of the Counterpane Fairy counting on and on, and as she counted he heard, with her voice, another sound, —at first very faintly, then more and more clearly: clink-clank! clink-clank! clink-clank! It reminded him a little of the ticking of the clock on the mantle, only it was more metallic.

“FORTY-NINE!” cried the Counterpane Fairy, clapping her hands.

And now the sound rang loud and clear in Teddy’s ears; it was the beating of hammers upon anvils.

When Teddy looked about him he was standing on a road that ran along the side of a mountain. All along this road were openings that looked like the mouths of caverns, and from these openings poured the ceaseless sound of beating, and a ruddy glow that reddened all the air and sky.

It all seemed very familiar to Teddy, and he had a feeling that he had seen it before.

Stepping to the nearest cavern he looked in, and there he saw the whole inside of the mountain was hollowed out into forges that opened into each other be means of rocky arches. In every forge were little dwarfs dressed in leather and hammering at pieces of red-hot iron that lay on the anvils.

As Teddy stood looking in he was so tall that his head almost touched the top of the doorway. He was dressed in a long red cloak, and under that he wore a robe fastened about the waist with a girdle of rubies that shone and sparkled in the light; upon his hand was a ruby ring. The stone of the ring was turned inward toward the palm, but it was so bright that the light shone through his fingers, and he drew his cloak over his hand that the dwarfs might not see it, for it was not yet time for them to know that he was King Fireheart.

After a while the iron that the little men were beating had to be put in the fire again to heat, and then they turned and looked at Teddy.

“Good-day,” said he.

“Good-day,” answered the dwarfs, staring hard at him.

“What are you making there?” asked Teddy.

“A link,” answered the dwarfs.

“A link!” said Teddy. “What for?”

“For a chain,” answered the dwarfs, and then the iron was hot and they took it out again and laid it on the anvil. Clink-clank! clink-clank! clink-clank! went their hammers.

Teddy watched them at their work for a while, and then he went on to the next forge, and there it was the same thing — more little dwarfs hammering away at their anvils as if their lives depended on it.

“Good-day,” said Teddy, as soon as they paused to heat the iron.

“Good-day,” said the dwarfs.

“What are you making there?” asked Teddy.

“A link,” answered the dwarfs.

“What for?” said Teddy.

“For a chain,” answered the dwarfs, and then they set to work again.

Teddy went on and on through the forges, and in every one of them were little dwarfs hammering away on links.

When he came to the last forge of all, they were just finishing a link, and as they threw it into a tank of water a cloud of steam rose, almost hiding them from view. They were so busy that they paid no attention to Teddy when he spoke. “Make haste! Make haste!” they cried to each other. “It is growing late and she will soon be here.”

In a great hurry the dwarfs caught up the link from the water and laid it on the anvil again, and then they all stood back from it. Every noise has ceased through all the forges, and the dwarfs were waiting in breathless stillness as though for something to happen.

Suddenly, in the silence, Teddy heard a faint tinkling as though of icicles struck lightly together, and at the same moment he saw that a woman all in white had entered the forge down at the other end. Her dress shone with all different colors, just as icicles do when they hang in the sunlight, and as the light of the fire caught it here and there, it almost looked as though it were on fire. Her hair was very black, and she wore a crown.

She stepped up to the anvil that was in the forge and laid her hand upon it. She was too far away for Teddy to see what she did, but there was a clink as of something breaking, and a low wail arose from the dwarfs that stood near by. Then she passed on to the next anvil, and to the next, and to the next, and at each one she paused and touched the link that lay upon it, and always at that there was a clink, and a wail arose from the dwarfs.

At last she came to the very forge where Teddy was, but he had drawn back behind the stone archway and she did not see him. Gliding to the anvil, she stretched out her white finger and laid it upon the link that the dwarfs had made, and instantly, as soon as she touched it, the iron flew into pieces with a clink.

The dwarfs burst into a low wail, but the woman with the crown struck her hands together and stamped her foot in a rage. “Fools! fools!” she cried. “Not yet one link that will not fly into pieces at a touch. But you shall make the chain, though it should take your very hearts to do it.”

Then, still scowling until her beautiful face was like a thunder-cloud, and without a single glance at the trembling dwarfs, she glided from the forge and was gone.

The dwarf who held the pincers drew his arm across his forehead to wipe off the sweat. “Come,” said he, “let us set to work, for now it’s all to be done over again.”

“But tell me first,” said Teddy, “what does this all mean, and who is this woman with a crown who comes and breaks your links with a touch as soon as you have finished them?”

“Ah! that is a long, sad story,” said the dwarf who held the pincers.

“Yes, it is a long, sad story,” echoed the others. “You tell him, Leatherkin,” they added.

“Well,” said Leatherkin, sitting down on a rock that lay close by, “it’s this way. This mountain where we live is only one of many that are called the Fire Mountains, because their rocks are so red, and because they are all full of forges. Here we dwarfs used to live happily enough, for our good King Fireheart was so rich and strong that no one dared to make war on us, and we were left in peace to do what we would.

“King Fireheart, however, was not contented, for he wanted to see the world, so one day he set out on a journey, no one knew whither, leaving the country in the charge of his foster-brother.

“While he was away the Ice-Queen came with all her white spearsmen and attacked the country and conquered it. Then she set us all to work, for she knew that in all the world there were no such smiths as the dwarfs of the Fire King’s country, and not until we have forged her the magic chain that binds all but one’s self will she set us free to go about out own affairs again.

“That is why we are all working to forge the links, and if we could but make one that would stand so much as a touch of her finger we would have hopes of making it, but so far not one has been made but what flies into pieces at her lightest touch.