“First we’ll have another look at the dragon,” said the old soldier, “and then we’ll try to find the palace of Isa Poso.”
So down the snowy hill they marched and slid and they had just come to the banks of the stream when harsh voices from the other side of a clump of trees made them stop short.
“Flowers!” screamed the first voice. “Pull them up, tread them down! Who dares to plant flowers on Isa Poso?”
“Foot-prints, too, Chilly dear,” grunted a deeper voice. “Here is an animal with unmatched feet.”
Dropping on his knees, the old soldier peered around the frozen tree trunks and saw two of the islanders bending over the tracks they had made when they chased Enorma. They were towering men of snow, with faces of roughly cut ice and so cruel and forbidding in appearance that just to think of them makes me shudder. Fortunately Grampa was not so easily frightened as I am.
“Animals indeed!” spluttered the old soldier. “Company! Forward march!” And Grampa rushed through the trees so fast that Tatters and Urtha had to run to keep up. So suddenly did they burst out upon the little group of islanders that several of the snow men fell over backwards.
“Where is the King?” shouted Grampa, giving his drum such a whack that three more of the company collapsed. But they quickly recovered themselves and, instead of answering, the tallest snow man flung out his arms toward Urtha.
“Stand still!” he commanded angrily. “You’re ruining my island. Look at the foolish creature cluttering up the place with flowers!”
Urtha shrank back toward Tatters and the young Prince, speechless with indignation, grasped his umbrella and prepared to attack. But Grampa restrained him and with another resounding whack of his drum strode up to the speaker.