“I shall bring our cook here,” went on Hal, “she needn’t have a fire at all to cook our meals or to wash our clothes.” And he looked down into the clear steaming pool close by, edged with crumbling, many-coloured soil, and around, and even within which, delicate ferns were growing.
But Santa Claus’ starry crown was already shining faint on the pathway ahead, and the children tripped on lightly after him.
What lovely fairy glens they saw at each turn of the little path, carpeted with soft, bright green, and overhung with tender foliage, and Cis wished it were midnight that she might see the fairies dance. What fairy ball-rooms, too, with floors of pale pink marble, and pretty streamlets of warm water trickling near, for tired feet to paddle in!
But Santa Claus had stopped, and the children hurried up to his side, and there, in the midst of the thick bushes, they saw a small lake of clearest blue, and to its edge sloped down a gleaming floor of white, and the trees that drooped near to the water’s edge shone white, as though a hoar-frost had silvered each trunk and tiny twig.
“Oh! how lovely!” cried little Cis. “Is this like the snow in England, Mr. Santa Claus?”
“Not quite,” he answered, “though it is as beautiful. But listen, little ones!”
And as he spoke a chorus of voices was heard, faint, as though from the bowels of the earth, and then a low rumbling noise was followed by a mighty burst of steam from a hole a little way off, and on the top of it were shot out a troop of laughing gnomes.
On the top of the geyser were shot out a troop of laughing gnomes.
What funny little fellows they looked, with their long yellow legs, short bodies, and merry round faces beneath their yellow hats of all shapes and sizes. With many wild antics and strange capers they danced round the blue lake, singing:—