patience slung between them, grew
at last weary of his clamour, and shook his litter when he cried out, as
if, indeed, that might quiet him.

Nod stumped on for a long time in silence, listening to his brother's
raving. "O Thumb, what should we do," he broke out at last--"what should
we do, you and me, if Thimble died?"

Thumb grunted. "Thimble will not die, little brother."

"But how can you know, Thumb? Or do you say it only to comfort me?"

"I never could tell how I know, Ummanodda; but know I do, and there's an
end."

"I suppose we shall get to Tishnar's Valleys--in time?" said Nod, half
to himself.

"The Nizza-neela is downcast with long travel," said Ghibba.

"Ay," muttered Thumb, "and being a Mulla-mulgar, he does not show it."

Nod turned his head away, blinked softly, shrugged up his jacket, but
made no answer. And Thumb, in his kindness, and perhaps to ease his own
spirits, too, broke out in his great seesaw voice into the Mulgar
journey-song. High above the squabbling of the little Mountain-owls,
high above the remote thunder of the surging waters in the ravine, into
the clear air they raised their hoarse voices together:

"In Munza a Mulgar once lived alone,
And his name it was Dubbuldideery, O;
With none to love him, and loved by none,
His hard old heart it grew weary, O,
Weary, O weary, O weary.

"So he up with his cudgel, he on with his bag
Of Manaka, Ukkas, and Keeri, O;
To seek for the waters of 'Old-Made-Young,'
Went marching old Dubbuldideery, O
Dubbuldi-dubbuldi-deery.

"The sun rose up, and the sun sank down;
The moon she shone clear and cheery, O,
And the myriads of Munza they mocked and mopped
And mobbed old Dubbuldideery, O,
Moh Mulgar Dubbuldideery.

"He cared not a hair of his head did he,
Not a hint of the hubbub did hear he, O,
For the roar of the waters of 'Old-Made-Young'
Kept calling of Dubbuldideery, O,
Call--calling of Dubbuldideery.

"He came to the country of 'Catch Me and Eat Me'--
Not a fleck of a flicker did fear he, O,
For he knew in his heart they could never make mince-meat
Of tough old Dubbuldideery, O,
Rough, tough, gruff Dubbuldideery.

"He waded the Ooze of Queen Better-Give-Up,
Dim, dank, dark, dismal, and dreary, O,
And, crunch! went a leg down a Cockadrill's throat,
'What's _one_?' said Dubbu