thers that
might have ended in not one of them ever seeing Tishnar's Valleys alive.
It was like this: Not knowing in which direction to be going in order to
seek for a path or pass whereby to scale Arakkaboa, they were at a loss
what to be doing. Even the Munza-mulgars detest being more than the
height of the loftiest forest-tree above their shadows on the ground;
more especially, therefore, did these Mulla-mulgars, who never, or very
rarely, as I have said many times already, climb trees at all. So they
determined to stay awhile here and rest and eat until some Mulgar should
come along of whom they could ask the way. It was a valley rich with
the sweet ground-fruit I have already mentioned, whose spikes of a faint
and thorny blue mount just above the snow, and whose berries, owing to
their sugary coats or pods, resist all coldness. So that, without
mention of Ukka-nuts, of which a grove grew not far beyond the bend of
the valley, the travellers had plenty to eat. They had also an abundance
of water, because of a little torrent that came roaring through its ice
near by the trees they had chosen for their lodging. The wind that
softly blew along this low land was warmer, or, at least, not so keen
and fitful as the forest wind, and they were by now growing accustomed
to the cold. For the night, however, they raised up for themselves a
kind of leaning shelter, or huddle, of branches to be moved against the
wind according as it blew up or down the valley.

But idleness leads to mischief. And not to press on is to be sliding
backward. And to wait for help is to let help limp out of sight. And
overcome, perhaps, by the luscious fruit, of which they ate far too much
and far too often, and growing sluggardly with sleep, the travellers
soon went on to bickering and scuffling together. With all this food,
too, and long sleep and idleness, their courage began to droop. And if
they heard any sound of living thing, even so much as a call or
crackling branch, they would sneak off and hide in their night-shelter,
not caring now for any kind of boldness nor to think of venturing over
these homeless mountains.

So it came about that one night, as they were sleeping together under
their huddle, as was their custom, Thumb, who had been nibbling fruit
nearly all day long, cried out in a loud and terrible voice in his
sleep, till Thimble, half awakened by his raving, picked up his thick
cudgel and laid it soundly across his brother's shoul