CHAPTER III.
DUSK’S STRONGHOLD.
To say that our hero felt satisfied with the treatment he had received at the hands of Mother Dot would be to state an untruth. He was not satisfied. He had a latent suspicion that the hag was in some way or other leagued with his enemy. Under these circumstances he therefore thrust her gift into his pocket, and went in search of the ugly dwarf. For hours he wandered about without seeing a vestige of any living thing. He began [[28]]to feel tired and hungry, and darkness was approaching fast. What should he do? Try and find his way back again to where he had left Grapple? No, the giant would only laugh at him.
He suddenly bethought him to try the old woman’s gift. She had said that whatever he might wish for should be gratified. His first and dearest wish was to find the whereabouts of the dwarf. So he put the relic to the test. Swift and potent indeed was the effect. Scarcely had the desire taken shape in his mind ere his eyes beheld a massive structure about the distance of a mile right ahead of him. The building was surrounded by a high wall, and looked more like a gaol than anything else.
As he drew near, the young miner observed a strong iron door in the wall, at which he began to knock.
“Who’s there? What want you here?” resounded from a hoarse voice belonging to an enormous head and face, which at that moment protruded itself over the battlement.
“Does the dwarf they call Dusk reside here?” demanded our hero.
“He does, but he’s not at home. Go away, you mite, before I come and crush your bones together.” [[29]]
“Try,” responded the Nugget. “As for the dwarf, I believe the rascal is here, and I mean to enter and satisfy myself on that point.”
“Begone, you wretched ant—you insect!” roared the monster passionately.
“A fig for your bluster, you bundle of ugliness,” responded our hero.
The face disappeared as suddenly as the policeman in the puppet show, and immediately the iron door opened wide, disclosing a horrible-looking fellow, several feet taller than Grapple, and armed with a well-seasoned sapling about the dimensions of a verandah post.
“Now, you flea, you miserable son-in-law of a blow-fly, what have you to say before I smash you up?” cried the giant, purple with rage.
Without answer, Samson sprang through the open doorway. As he did so, the monster aimed a crushing blow at his head. Ducking like an otter, Nugget avoided the ponderous bludgeon, which fell upon the door and tore it from its hinges. Quick as the swoop of a hawk, he seized a fragment of iron and dealt his gigantic antagonist an awkward whack full upon his stomach, which tumbled him down, as if he had been shot, and there he lay quite helpless.
The Nugget, without troubling about his adversary, [[30]]entered the building; but he had not advanced beyond the porch before another and more formidable foe confronted him. Strongly built, and as sturdy as the trunk of an old oak, monster number two appeared neither man nor fish, but a strange combination of both. It had eyes and mouth like a fish, and as many legs and arms as an octopus, each member being armed at the extremities with spikes as sharp as steel.
“What seekest thou?” it bellowed forth, with the lungs of a bull.
“I seek the antic sprite, Dusk,” replied the undaunted Samson.
“Poor, mean earthworm, knowest thou not that the mighty Dusk is lord and master here in Twilight?”
“Pray conduct me to his lordship.”
“Hence! at once, or I’ll roast you like a crab,” said the man-fish.
“Stuff! You’ll find me tough eating,” replied the Nugget, at the same time drawing forth the ram’s horn, and changing it into a light, handy sword.
The monster grinned in disdain. Stretching forth his long arms, he tried to clutch our hero, but the Nugget cleverly avoided him. Then began a fierce combat between them. Here and there, up and down, with ringing blows, the duel [[31]]became very exciting and sanguinary, till the man-fish, losing his temper and his breath together, received the coup de grâce, and was hurled headlong down the terrace steps.
All further opposition seemed at an end with the death of the second monster, and our hero wended his way into the interior of the mansion. As he proceeded, he found the place was not at all so gloomy as might be expected from an outside view of it. Indeed, he discovered it was a large building, and furnished in excellent taste. The walls of the various apartments were hung with silk and velvet of chaste pattern and hue. Couches and chairs richly carved, with marble tables decked with choicest flowers and fruits, were reflected in mirrors on the walls, which were more elaborate than those of old Venice. Parrots of the gayest plumage, rare birds in golden cages, soft, sparkling fountains, and a delicious perfume of flowers, all made up a magnificent whole that was worthy the dwelling-place of a king.
With hasty steps our hero wandered through many rooms, hoping to discover the dwarf. His wandering brought him to a grand staircase, the steps of which were covered with Cashmere velvet, bordered with satin flowers. A bronze stand, curiously ornamented, supported a large globe of [[32]]white crystal at the head of the stairway. The Nugget could not help pausing to admire this beautiful piece of workmanship. The crystal ball was so dazzling bright that it made his eyes ache to look upon it.
“What a strange ball!” he said, shading his sight with his hand, and approaching close to it. “How large it is! It seems large enough to hold that rascal Dusk. What if he should be hiding here? Perhaps it is solid. Humph! I’ll try it. Ball, crystal ball, if thou art hollow, by my ram’s horn, I command thee! Open!”
Before the words had left his lips the globe slowly split in twain; while from within there rose before his wondering sight—not the ugly sprite—but the graceful form of a lovely young maiden.
Never in the life of this poor digger, either in his waking sense or in dreams, had he seen any woman so enchantingly lovely. In olden times men were blessed with visions of the angels, and they essayed to picture what they had seen. Yet how crude the forms of Cherubim and Seraphim both on canvas and on page to the glorious reality!
If Samson the Nugget had been gifted with the descriptive powers of the world-renowned war correspondent, I’m afraid the twenty-six letters in our alphabet would not have been sufficient to [[33]]convey any idea of the beauty of this damsel upon whom he gazed. Her complexion was like that delicate tint we see upon the pearl shell, and her hair shone like burnished gold.
“Who art thou, fair lady?” cried the Australian youth, gallantly advancing with outstretched hands to assist her from the pedestal whereon she had been imprisoned.
“Alas!” she answered, weeping, “I am the daughter of King Golden Cloud, and my name is Silverhaze. Because I would not consent to become the wife of a wicked dwarf, named Dusk, he stole me from my home, and conveying me here, enclosed me in yon crystal globe.”
No ring-dove cooing for its mate had softer, sweeter voice than Princess Silverhaze. Our hero led her down the stairway and placed her on a couch by the window. Seating himself at her feet he briefly explained to her the part he had taken in search of their common foe.
“Where is Golden Cloud, your home?” he said. “I swear I will not rest until I have placed you safe again in the arms of your kith and kin.”
“Thou art a brave youth,” answered the Princess, looking down at him with eyes that sparkled gratitude. “If thou canst indeed take me from [[34]]this horrid place, my father will load thee with honours, and poor Silverhaze will love thee always.”
Ah me! Who shall write the Nugget’s answer? Who shall detail his confusion, his stammerings, his schoolboy blushes? Not I, my young friends. Wise old Atha knows full well how near the Love God dangles to yourselves—how near ye are to the reality without the ideal being stamped on this page to point the way.
In considerably less time than it takes to pen these lines, the Princess had decided to trust her fortunes to the pluck and gallantry of her young champion. But in the midst of their plans they were unexpectedly confronted by their deadly enemy—Dusk—armed to the teeth.
CHAPTER IV.
THE RING-DOVE.
Fairyland can produce nothing so wonderful as the facility with which sundry mortals can extend their faces. To smile widely is the fashion with us nowadays, and it is very wonderful indeed to note the various methods of its accomplishment. If the human face be a mask (and who shall say it is not?) then what maskers promenade our streets with their masks set smiling—as one would set a [[35]]watch or a clock! Bowing and smirking is the latest humbug, and even the mere soulless puppets, born of men’s brains, must smack of it, else they are voted untrue to life and nature.
There was a set smile on the ugly face of Dusk, the dwarf, as he bowed to Silverhaze and our hero; but the sprite had not been educated in a mortal school. He lacked polish. Malignity shone in his eyes and in every corner of his wicked mouth.
“Don’t move, I pray,” he said slowly; “my slaves are entirely at your service. Why don’t you summon them to do your bidding? Ho, ho, ho!” And his mocking laugh rang through the vaulted passages like a bugle-call.
Poor Silverhaze began to tremble, and clung to the Nugget for support, while the youth in his turn tried his utmost to calm her fears.
The dwarf eyed them with a sinister look. “Very charming for my fay,” he ejaculated, rubbing his bony hands together. “Very loving and tender, oh, my doves. What tender morsels you’ll make for mince-pies! My cook, Pancake Parecheese, will be delighted with you. He, he, hi!” He turned about as he spoke, and clapped his hands together as a signal. Almost immediately the room became filled with armed monsters. [[36]]
“Ha!” cried Dusk in mocking sarcasm. “You break into my house, kill my servants, and rob me of my coveted prize. Slaves, take this man away and boil him down.”
It was a dreadful order. To cook a man like a leg of mutton or a shin of beef! Good heavens! it was awful. But the dwarf, powerful as he was, little dreamed of the amazing influence of the ram’s horn. By its potent force our hero set the whole army of monsters by the ears, who fell foul of and slew each other. Not satisfied with this, they set fire to the mansion, where, amidst the conflagration, those who were not slain perished in the flames.
At the beginning of the fray our hero seized the dwarf, and transforming him into a donkey, placed the King’s daughter on his back, and retraced his steps to Mother Dot’s hut on the cliff. The dame came out at their approach, and at the sight of her the ass began to bray loudly.
“Thou wicked sprite!” she cried, shaking her staff over him. “Thou camest to me in sore need, and I gave thee power. How hast thou used my gift? Why, to evil. Beast thou art, and a beast thou shalt remain for evermore.”
The donkey drew back his long ears, and kicked spitefully, for fully five minutes, at the [[37]]decree. Meanwhile, Mother Dot took the young Princess and her companion into the hut, and placed refreshment before them. It was amusing to see the attention the Nugget bestowed upon the fair young creature by his side, and to note the tell-tale blushes which ever and anon suffused her face as their eyes or their hands chanced to meet. Even the old crone, who wasn’t looking their way, nodded her ancient head, muttered, and chuckled in a wise way, as if she had known it all beforehand.
“AT THE SIGHT OF HER THE ASS BEGAN TO BRAY LOUDLY.”
[[38]]
The meal ended, Silverhaze approached the dame and whispered, “Dear Mother Dot, who is this gallant youth who has delivered me from the wicked dwarf?”
“Ah, he will tell you soon, my pearl,” she answered with a leer; “meantime, he’s called the Knight of the Ram’s Horn.”
Presently the Nugget drew near the old woman, and plucking her by the sleeve, said, “Dame, canst tell what I am to do with this gentle maiden?”
“Yes, my son. Thou hast conquered the evil Dusk, therefore to thee shall be the proud service of restoring Princess Silverhaze to her home.”
“Where is her home, good dame?”
“Thou hast seen it,” answered the old woman. “That rock on the plain is the palace of King Golden Cloud. This damsel is the King’s only child.”
“Whew!” cried Samson, taking off his hat. “Why, mother, the place is a wretched ruin.”
“So it is, and there stands the spoiler,” replied the crone, pointing to the ass. “Dusk the dwarf coveted the Pearl of Golden Cloud for his wife, and when she denied him, the base wretch stole her from thence, and to hide the deed, he committed a greater one, as people generally do who [[39]]begin to do evil. By the dwarf’s enchantments, the King, Queen, ladies, nobles, courtiers, and every soul within the palace were transformed into the likeness of stone images. The guards who attempted to rescue the King’s daughter were changed into a horde of wild animals on the spot, while the matchless garden, the wonder and beauty of a kingdom, became a wide waste.”
“What a wicked monster!” cried our hero indignantly.
“Ah! my son; but thanks to thy strong back and unfaltering courage the spell is broken, and his power is gone for ever. If thou hadst failed with the burden I gave thee, then would Silverhaze be still confined within the crystal globe.”
“I am very glad to have rescued the lady,” he replied; “but, mother, I could not have accomplished it without your aid. Even now I am at a loss how to proceed.”
The old dame looked at him, and began to chuckle.
“Marry! art not thou the Knight of the Ram’s Horn? Ha! ha! hi! hi!”
So tickled did she appear at this somewhat ambiguous question that she laughed till the building trembled to its foundation, and she no sooner recovered from one guffaw than she went [[40]]off into another, until it ended in a severe fit of coughing.
Samson the Nugget was rather surprised at the old lady’s merriment. There really seemed nothing to laugh at. How was he to find the way to that subterraneous passage by which he had come? And, moreover, supposing he found it, how was he to convey the Princess up the steep sides of the black chasm?
The whole thing had been feasible enough if the ram’s horn had still remained in his possession, but the relic had mysteriously gone from him the moment he re-entered the old woman’s hut.
After many futile attempts at choking, Mother Dot recovered sufficiently to say,—
“Sir Knight, be not troubled concerning the maiden. I will find means to send ye both to Golden Cloud.”
“But, dame, I repeat the place is a ruin.”
“Tut! To thee it seemeth so,” she answered shortly. “I will undo the spell cast upon it, and thou shalt see it in all its former magnificence. The statues shall rouse them from their long sleep and give ye welcome. I have said it.”
The dame hobbled to a pretty cage, and took therefrom a beautiful ring-dove which perched tamely on her finger and began to coo. Bending [[41]]her mouth towards its beak she whispered a few words, and the dove flew away and was lost to sight in a moment.
“Come, Sir Knight; come, Princess. You must now set forth on your journey to Golden Cloud,” continued Mother Dot. “We will all mount upon the back of the ass, who shall bear us to Moonshine, after which you will have no difficulty in reaching your destination.”
The miserable donkey gave forth a loud bray of dissent at the undue weight placed upon him, but a few sound thumps, administered with the old lady’s crutch, soon quieted him. The dark night had fallen round them ere they reached the frontier which divides Golden Cloud from Work-a-Day.
At this point Dame Dot dismounted, and, taking leave of the Princess and her companion, said,—
“We part here, for I cannot cross this line. Remember me to His Majesty and the Queen. Farewell!”
The crone vanished, together with the ass, and left the King’s daughter and her champion standing on the threshold of two worlds—the known and unknown.
On this borderland they beheld on one side a dim, imperfect light, out of which came voices [[42]]filled with groans and sobs. The air trembled with countless sighs, upborne from millions of aching hearts; but the rush and the roar, and the hurry-skurry of tumult and bustle swallowed up the sounds. The other side gleamed soft and clear, with roseate shadows. There was no cry of pain, no wail of despair there.
“This is our way,” the Princess said, and they left the obscure reflection behind them and went onward into the light.
CHAPTER V.
GOLDEN CLOUD.
Away beyond the sound of tears the mortal and his companion wandered. In the distance shone the glinting crest of a winding river, and as they drew near it the King’s daughter clapped her hands together in rapture. “Look, look!” she said. “This is Golden Cloud. It is my home.”
“Golden Cloud! Where?” The wondering gaze of the Australian youth turned east, west, south, and north. According to the landmarks in many places, this was certainly the river over which he had chased the dwarf; but lo! how changed. Could yonder towering edifice, bristling [[43]]with lofty towers and domes, be that gloomy rock where he had left his companion, Grapple, asleep?
Peaks and turrets glittered under the soft light, sending untold rays aslant terrace and fountain, and upon the bright forms of dame and cavalier promenading to and fro.
Could this far-stretching vista be that bare plain over which he had passed? This with its gleaming cascades whose ripplings rivalled the lullaby of the bulbul? This with its leafy arches, and long, winding avenues, looped with clustering vines, whose stems were bent ’neath fruited gems? What bowers of green, bedecked with diamond drops and pearls of May dew!
Down where the stream flowed, the firmament, with its clustering hosts of stars, was mirrored on the liquid floor; while o’er the intervening space there floated sounds that might have ravished the senses even of a German Jew.
Cadence of bird and insect never fell before so soft and dulcet upon heaven-tuned ears. From its hundred windows the palace of King Golden Cloud beamed forth with light and beauty to welcome back its lost daughter. Welcome from bud and blossom, ringed with fire-flies, and whose ever-changing shimmer flashes a rainbow-hued light to guide their steps. [[44]]
Glorious Golden Cloud! Many of us poor, fading weeds of sorrow would fain climb thy hill-top, if but to rest our weary souls for one brief moment in thy quiet groves. Oh! what sordid slaves are we who worship at those iron gates, whose recompense are wrinkled brows and silvered hair. Great Fetish of the world, the flesh, and the devil, I bow the knee to thee no more. Day by day I hear the cry of groaning thousands, that struggle for a bare existence around thy temple, calling to thee in vain. In vain they call, and vain thy power to help them. Oh thou cold and doubly-cursed humbug of the teeming world.
Standing there amidst the circle of things pure and beautiful, the Knight of the Ram’s Horn beheld the approach of a pretty ring-dove towards them, with a grand barge of state following across the river. The boat drew up almost at their feet, and Silverhaze cried out, “See, this is the King’s Chamberlain, Sir Bumble Bee Popgun.”
As the damsel spoke, an aged figure ascended from the boat, and doffing his jewelled hat, bent low before her. “The King of Golden Cloud hath mourned for his Pearl—his child,” he said in mellifluous accents.
Princess Silverhaze smiled, and stooping, whispered [[45]]something in his ear, then entered the barge on the arm of her doughty knight.
Over the stream they went and up the hill at the farther side, which presented overhead a leafy arcade, where myriads of glow-worms infused a coloured sheen athwart the brilliant uniforms of the King’s Guards who walled the way up to the very gates of the palace. A great concourse of nobles thronged the entrance to the royal residence and cheered the Princess as she passed round on the arm of our hero. Sir Bumble Bee led the way through throngs of bowing lackeys to the King’s chamber—a large hall of state—where, seated on a magnificent dais, our hero beheld the King and Queen of Golden Cloud waiting to embrace their daughter. The chamber was thronged with ladies and gentlemen. The former wore purple robes, with blue and white mantles, which floated about with the faintest breath. Many who stood in the presence of the Queen had robes like silver, and each had a brilliant star fixed in her hair. The Nugget noticed these were most beautiful women, their complexions seeming to take the brilliancy from the light by which they were surrounded. The young Knight of the Ram’s Horn saw all this at a glance, for he had an eye for the beautiful, [[46]]but his vision could not take in half the things that were around him.
For some considerable time he appeared to have been forgotten, so great was the excitement on the return of the Princess. But when the stir had somewhat subsided, the King’s daughter briefly detailed the exploits of our hero; how he had not only rescued her from the hands of the wicked dwarf Dusk, but that he by his courage had restored the kingdom of Golden Cloud.
More than we have space to detail, Silverhaze said in our hero’s favour, and he was led forward to the throne, where the Queen embraced him and seated him on her footstool. The King, not to be outdone on this occasion, made a speech in praise of courage generally, and of the courage displayed by the Nugget in particular. This oration lasted some six hours and a quarter, and occupied about twenty-seven columns in the Shadow Land Observer.
The return of Silverhaze and the restoration of Golden Cloud caused universal rejoicing throughout the land. His Majesty was so well pleased with Nugget that he conferred upon him the Order of the Moon and the rank of Prince, and to crown all, said he should marry Princess Silverhaze. And they were married. [[47]]
Ah, me! Wonderful, amazingly wonderful, the rank and splendour of that wedding-day! But it was over at last, and the lovers were left alone to enjoy their billing and cooing together.
* * *
“Come, Samson, wake up, man. Are you going to sleep all Christmas Day?” cried a gruff voice. And the Nugget, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, saw that he was still in the drive of the gold mine, with his relieving mate standing over him.
The poor fellow—HAD ONLY DREAMED. [[48]]