"Of course, they married and lived happily ever after!" cried George. "Didn't I tell you so?"
There was no answer. Suddenly he heard what sounded to him like thunder. It rumbled and rolled, nearer and nearer, louder and louder. At last a tremendous clap made the stones roll down the mountain-side, and the trees quivered and shook in fright.
"What shall we do, Alexander?" exclaimed George, for he hated thunder; and he wasn't in bed, so he couldn't bury his head under the clothes. If you do this—as everybody knows—the thunder can't get at you, and just rolls and bumps about under the bed until it gets tired.
Alexander yawned and stretched himself. "Oh, it's only the old giant snoring. I don't wonder, after talking so long about princesses and sausages. Nobody ate a sausage in the whole story. I wish I'd been there, that's all! We'd better be going. He won't wake up for at least a week now."
Sure enough, the poor old giant was fast asleep, and snoring so that you could have heard him twenty miles off. You could hardly hear yourself speak for the noise.
Well, it was no use waiting, so George and Alexander started to follow the little path which wound in and out, like the letter S, up the mountain-side. It was the easiest thing in the world to climb. It was as nice as going upstairs on a very soft carpet, up—up, until they were right above the fir-trees, and it grew colder and colder. In another moment they were walking on real snow!
"We're nearly at the top now," said Alexander.
George had never been up to the top of a mountain before. Fancy going home and telling everybody what he'd done! Of course he would have to pretend that it was really very difficult, just as people do in books. But would anyone believe him?
Up—up, until at last there they were right on the very tip-top. Far below for miles and miles stretched a great plain, green and beautiful to behold. Was it fancy, that faint sound of music?
"Alexander, where does that music come from?" asked George.