have said, clear and starry weather.
Far below them the valleys lay, their blackness fleeced with mist; high
above them glittered the quiet ravines of ice and snow. So cold had it
fallen again, Nod huddled himself close in his sheep's-jacket, buzzing
quiet songs while he waddled along with his stick. So all night they
walked without resting, except to change the litter-bearers.

When dawn began to stir, they came to where the Mulgar-path widened
awhile. Here many rock-conies dwelt that have, as it were, wings of skin
with which they leap as if they flew. And here the travellers doused
their torches, set Thimble down, and made breakfast. While they all sat
eating together, on a narrow pass beneath them wound by another of the
long-haired companies of the Men of the Mountains. From upper path to
lower was about fifteen Mulgars deep, for that is how they measure their
heights. All these Mulgars were laden with a kind of fresh green seaweed
heaped up on their shallow head-baskets, and were come three days'
journey from the sea from fetching it. This seaweed they eat in their
soup, or raw, as a relish or salad. Perhaps they pit it against their
cheese. Whether or no, its salt and refreshing savour rose up into the
air as they walked. And Nod sniffed it gladly for simple friendship and
memory of his master Battle.

Breakfast done, the snow-bobbins hopped down to pick up the crumbs.
These little tufty birds, of the size of a plump bull-finch, but pure
white, with coral eyes, hop among the Mountain-mulgar troops wheresoever
they go, having a great fancy for their sour cheese-crumbs.

The Men of the Mountains then hung up on their rods or staves a kind of
thick sheet or shadow-blanket, as they call it, woven of goats' wool and
Ollaconda-fibre, under which they all hid themselves from the glare of
the over-riding sun. Nod, too, and Thumb sat down in close shade beside
Thimble's litter, and slept fitfully, tired out with their night-march,
but anxious in the extreme for their brother.

Towards about three, as we should say, or when the sun was three parts
across his bridge, having wound up their shadow-blankets and made all
shipshape, the little company of grey and brown Mulgars set out once
more. Thimble, who had lain drowsy and panting, but quiet, during the
day, now began to toss and rave as if in fear. His cries rang piercing
and sorrowful against these stone walls, and even the hairy
Mountain-men, who carried him in such