But before the giant children had gone far towards the iceberg gateway, a great voice, like the sound of a hurricane, cried: “Who dares to enter my thawless Castle, and tread the icy cloisters of my hall? Who wakes me rudely from my slumber?”
The children were too awed to speak, and the mighty voice continued:
“Summer is at hand! and she and I have quarrelled since the world began. Why do you waken me at such a time? ’Tis I who rule the wintry southern world, holding it tight within my icy grasp. I scatter with a lavish hand the jewels of frost! I make the rosy cheeks of children glow! And yet I can be cruel! I can be cruel!”
“I wonder if he has finished the recitation? These winds are so long-winded,” whispered Tibbs to Coppertop.
“Oh, do be careful what you say! He’s annoyed already!” she said warningly.
“Pooh! Think I’m afraid of a puff of wind!”
“Please be quiet!” pleaded his sister. “You know we’ve come to ask a favour.”
Just then an icy gust, like a huge hand, shot forth and touched Tibbs on the hands and feet. Instantly he howled with pain and tried to warm his frost-bitten fingers by holding them in his mouth, whilst he hopped first on one foot and then on the other.
The South Wind.