To make things safer, Pimby, the Flying Pig, flew over also, and insisted on catching hold of the coat of Coppertop’s pyjamas, which he held tightly between his teeth.
Tibbs’ face was perspiring with anxiety and fatigue, but he would rather have fallen to the bottom himself, than have let go of those precious little ankles.
There was a distant rumble of thunder, and a few drops of rain fell upon them.
Coppertop’s heart beat faster at the sound, and she felt as though she must choke, for she hated a thunderstorm. Besides, it sounded ominously like the Clerk of the Weather, up to his mischief again, in spite of his promise. It would be too terrible if he interfered now—just at the critical moment.
She must hasten to kiss the stone without delay. She was surprised to find that it had a face, and that it pouted its lips to be kissed, in a most amusing way. Coppertop wanted to laugh, and then to cry. And as she looked down she saw that Biddy-be-sure, with her white apron outstretched, had grown to look strangely like her big four-posted Bed!
She suddenly felt very limp and nerveless, but she thought of the December day, so nearly hers; and, with a mighty effort, she raised her head forward, and—KISSED THE BLARNEY STONE!
There was a blinding flash of lightning! A roar of thunder! And, to her amazement, Coppertop felt herself FALLING!
Tibbs still held her ankles, but he was falling too! The Castle was falling! EVERYTHING was FALLING!
Down, down like a stone she fell, through Biddy’s apron, pulling the Flying Pig with her!