iddens
whom Tishnar had made beyond all things beautiful, and yet whose beauty
had made beyond all things sad. But he could never in the least
understand why this was so. When, by the sorcery of his Wonderstone, he
had swept all glittering the night before across the jewelled snow, he
had never before felt so happy. Why, then, was this Water-midden--by how
much more beautiful than he was then!--why was she not happy, too? He
peered in his curiosity, with head on one side and blinking eyes, at the
Water-midden, and presently, without knowing it, breathed out a long,
gruff sigh.

The still Water-midden instantly stayed her singing and looked up at
him. Not in the least less fair than the clustering flowers of Tishnar's
orchard was her pale startled face. Her eyes were dark as starry night's
beneath her narrow brows. She drew her fingers very stealthily across
the clear dark water.

"Are you, then, one of those wild wandering Mulgars that light great
fires by night," she said, "and scare all my fishes from sleeping?"

"Yes, Midden; I and my brothers," said Nod. "We light fires because we
are cold and hungry. We are wanderers; that is true. But 'wild'--I know
not."

"'Cold,' O Mulgar, and with a jacket of sheep's wool, thick and curled,
like that?"

Nod laughed. "It was a pleasant coat when it was new, Midden, but we are
old friends now--it and me. And though it keeps me warm enough marching
by day, when night comes, and this never-to-be-forgotten frost sharpens,
my bones begin to ache, as did my mother's before me, whose grave not
even Kush can see."

"The Mulgar should live, like me, in the water, then he, too, would
never know of cold. Whither do you and your brothers wander, O Mulgar?"

"We have come," said Nod, "from beyond all Munza-mulgar, that lies on
the other side of the river of the saffron-fearing Coccadrilloes--that
is, many score leagues southward of Arakkaboa--and we go to our Uncle,
King Assasimmon, Prince of the Valleys of Tishnar--that is, if that
Mountain-prince, my friend Ghibba, can find us a way."

The Water-midden looked at Nod, and drew softly, slowly back her smooth
gold locks from the slippery water. "The Mulla-mulgar, then, has seen
great dangers?" she said. "He is very young and little to have travelled
so far."

Nod's voice grew the least bit glorious. "'Little and young,'" he said.
"Oh yes. And yet, O beautiful Water-midden, my brothers would never
have been here without me."

"Te