down its head reached the top of the arch,
and presently nothing but its legs were to be seen, crossing and
recrossing the face of the vanishing disc.

When the sun was down he could see nothing of it more, but in a moment
he heard its feet galloping over the dry crackling heather, and seeming
to come straight for him. He stood up, lifted his pickaxes and threw
the hammer end over his shoulder: he was going to have a fight for his
life! And now it appeared again, vague, yet very awful, in the dim
twilight the sun had left behind. But just before it reached him, down
from its four long legs it dropped flat on the ground, and came
crawling towards him, wagging a huge tail as it came.

CHAPTER 11

Lina

It was Lina. All at once Curdie recognized her--the frightful creature
he had seen at the princess's. He dropped his pickaxes and held out
his hand. She crept nearer and nearer, and laid her chin in his palm,
and he patted her ugly head. Then she crept away behind the tree, and
lay down, panting hard.

Curdie did not much like the idea of her being behind him. Horrible as
she was to look at, she seemed to his mind more horrible when he was
not looking at her. But he remembered the child's hand, and never
thought of driving her away. Now and then he gave a glance behind him,
and there she lay flat, with her eyes closed and her terrible teeth
gleaming between her two huge forepaws.

After his supper and his long day's journey it was no wonder Curdie
should now be sleepy. Since the sun set the air had been warm and
pleasant. He lay down under the tree, closed his eyes, and thought to
sleep. He found himself mistaken, however. But although he could not
sleep, he was yet aware of resting delightfully.

Presently he heard a sweet sound of singing somewhere, such as he had
never heard before--a singing as of curious birds far off, which drew
nearer and nearer. At length he heard their wings, and, opening his
eyes, saw a number of very large birds, as it seemed, alighting around
him, still singing. It was strange to hear song from the throats of
such big birds.

And still singing, with large and round but not the less birdlike
voices, they began to weave a strange dance about him, moving their
wings in time with their legs. But the dance seemed somehow to be
troubled and broken, and to return upon itself in an eddy, in place of
sweeping smoothly on.

And he soon learned, in the low short growls behin