A Little Boy Lost: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

THE LITTLE PEOPLE UNDERGROUND

When he awoke Martin found himself lying on a soft downy bed in a
dim stone chamber, and feeling silky hair over his cheek and neck
and arms, he knew that he was still with his new strange mother, the
beautiful Lady of the Mountain. She, seeing him awake, took him up
in her arms, and holding him against her bosom, carried him through
a long winding stone passage, and out into the bright morning
sunlight. There by a small spring of clearest water that gushed from
the rock she washed his scratched and bruised skin, and rubbed it
with sweet-smelling unguents, and gave him food and drink. The great
spotted beast sat by them all the time, purring like a cat, and at
intervals he tried to entice Martin to leave the woman's lap and
play with him. But she would not let him out of her arms: all day
she nursed and fondled him as if he had been a helpless babe instead
of the sturdy little run-away and adventurer he had proved himself
to be. She also made him tell her the story of how he had got lost
and of all the wonderful things that had happened to him in his
wanderings in the wilderness--the people of the Mirage, and old
Jacob and the savages, the great forest, the serpent, the owl, the
wild horses and wild man, and the black people of the sky. But it
was of the Mirage and the procession of lovely beings about which he
spoke most and questioned her.

"Do you think it was all a dream?" he kept asking her, "the Queen
and all those people?"

She was vexed at the question, and turning her face away, refused to
answer him. For though at all other times, and when he spoke of
other things, she was gentle and loving in her manner, the moment he
spoke of the Queen of the Mirage and the gifts she had bestowed on
him, she became impatient, and rebuked him for saying such foolish
things.

At length she spoke and told him that it was a dream, a very very
idle dream, a dream that was not worth dreaming; that he must never
speak of it again, never think of it, but forget it, just as he had
forgotten all the other vain silly dreams he had ever had. And
having said this much a little sharply, she smiled again and fondled
him, and promised that when he next slept he should have a good dream,
one worth the dreaming, and worth remembering and talking about.

She held him away from her, seating him on her knees, to look at his
face, and said, "For oh, dear little Martin, you are lovely and
sweet to look at, and you are mine, my own sweet child, and so long
as you live with me on the hills, and love me and eall me mother,
you shall be happy, and everything you see, sleeping and waking,
shall seem strange and beautiful."

It was quite true that he was sweet to look at, very pretty with his
rosy-white skin deepening to red on his cheeks; and his hair curling
all over his head was of a bright golden chestnut colour; and his
eyes were a very bright blue, and looked keen and straight at you
just like a bird's eyes, that seem to be thinking of nothing, and
yet seeing everything.

After this Martin was eager to go to sleep at once and have the
promised dream, but his very eagerness kept him wide awake all day,
and even after going to bed in that dim chamber in the heart of the
hill, it was a long time before he dropped off. But he did not know
that he had fallen asleep: it seemed to him that he was very wide
awake, and that he heard a voice speaking in the chamber, and that
he started up to listen to it.

"Do you not know that there are things just as strange underground
as above it?" said the voice.

Martin could not see the speaker, but he answered quite boldly:
"No--there's nothing underground except earth and worms and roots.
I've seen it when they've been digging."

"Oh, but there is!" said the voice. "You can see for yourself. All
you've got to do is to find a path leading down, and to follow it.
There's a path over there just in front of you; you can see the
opening from where you are lying."

He looked, and sure enough there _was_ an opening, and a dim passage
running down through the solid rock. Up he jumped, fired at the
prospect of seeing new and wonderful things, and without looking any
more to see who had spoken to him, he ran over to it. The passage
had a smooth floor of stone, and sloped downward into the earth, and
went round and round in an immense spiral; but the circles were so
wide that Martin scarcely knew that he was not travelling in a
straight line. Have you by chance ever seen a buzzard, or stork, or
vulture, or some other great bird, soaring upwards into the sky in
wide circles, each circle taking it higher above the earth, until it
looked like a mere black speck in the vast blue heavens, and at
length disappeared altogether? Just in that way, going round and
round in just such wide circles, lightly running all the time, with
never a pause to rest, and without feeling in the least tired,
Martin went on, only down and down and further down, instead of up
and up like the soaring bird, until he was as far under the mountain
as ever any buzzard or crane or eagle soared above it.

Thus running he came at last out of the passage to an open room or
space so wide that, look which way he would, he could see no end to
it. The stone roof of this place was held up by huge stone pillars
standing scattered about like groups of great rough-barked trees,
many times bigger round than hogsheads. Here and there in the roof,
or the stone overhead, were immense black caverns which almost
frightened him to gaze up at them, they were so vast and black. And
no light or sun or moon came down into that deep part of the earth:
the light was from big fires, and they were fires of smithies
burning all about him, sending up great flames and clouds of black
smoke, which rose and floated upwards through those big black caverns
in the roof. Crowds of people were gathered around the smithies, all
very busy heating metal and hammering on anvils like blacksmiths.
Never had he seen so many people, nor ever had he seen such busy men
as these, rushing about here and there shouting and colliding with
one another, bringing and carrying huge loads in baskets on their
backs, and altogether the sight of them, and the racket and the
smoke and dust, and the blazing fires, was almost too much for Martin;
and for a moment or two he was tempted to turn and run back into the
passage through which he had come. But the strangeness of it all
kept him there, and then he began to look more closely at the people,
for these were the little men that live under the earth, and they
were unlike anything he had seen on its surface. They were very stout,
strong-looking little men, dressed in coarse dark clothes, covered
with dust and grime, and they had dark faces, and long hair, and
rough, unkempt beards; they had very long arms and big hands, like
baboons, and there was not one among them who looked taller than
Martin himself. After looking at them he did not feel at all afraid
of them; he only wanted very much to know who they were, and what
they were doing, and why they were so excited and noisy over their
work. So he thrust himself among them, going to the smithies where
they were in crowds, and peering curiously at them. Then he began to
notice that his coming among them created a great commotion, for no
sooner would he appear than all work would be instantly suspended;
down would go their baskets and loads of wood, their hammers and
implements of all kinds, and they would stare and point at him, all
jabbering together, so that the noise was as if a thousand cockatoos
and parrots and paroquets were all screaming at once. What it was
all about he could not tell, as he could not make out what they said;
he could only see, and plainly enough, that his presence astonished
and upset them, for as he went about among them they fell back
before him, crowding together, and all staring and pointing at him.

But at length he began to make out what they were saying; they were
all exclaiming and talking about him. "Look at him! look at him!"
they cried. "Who is he? What, Martin--this Martin? Never. No, no, no!
Yes, yes, yes! Martin himself--Martin with nothing on! Not a
shred--not a thread! Impossible--it cannot be! Nothing so strange
has ever happened! _Naked_--do you say that Martin is naked? Oh,
dreadful--from the crown of his head to his toes, naked as he was
born! No clothes--no clothes--oh no, it can't be Martin. It is, it is!"
And so on and on, until Martin could not endure it longer, for he
had been naked for days and days, and had ceased to think about it,
and in fact did not know that he was naked. And now hearing their
remarks, and seeing how they were disturbed, he looked down at
himself and saw that it was indeed so--that he had nothing on, and
he grew ashamed and frightened, and thought he would run and hide
himself from them in some hole in the ground. But there was no place
to hide in, for now they had gathered all round him in a vast
crowd, so that whichever way he turned there before him they
appeared--hundreds and hundreds of dark, excited faces, hundreds of
grimy hands all pointing at him. Then, all at once, he caught sight
of an old rag of a garment lying on the ground among the ashes and
cinders, and he thought he would cover himself with it, and picking
it hastily up was just going to put it round him when a great roar
of "No!" burst out from the crowd; he was almost deafened with the
sound, so that he stood trembling with the old dirty rag of cloth in
his hand. Then one of the little men came up to him, and snatching
the rag from his hand, flung it angrily down upon the floor; then as
if afraid of remaining so near Martin, he backed away into the crowd
again.

Just then Martin heard a very low voice close to his ear speaking to
him, but when he looked round he could see no person near him. He
knew it was the same voice which had spoken to him in the cave where
he slept, and had told him to go down into that place underground.

"Do not fear," said the gentle voice to Martin. "Say to the little
men that you have lost your clothes, and ask them for something to
put on."

Then Martin, who had covered his face with his hands to shut out the
sight of the angry crowd, took courage, and looking at them, said,
half sobbing, "O, Little Men, I've lost my clothes--won't you give me
something to put on?"

This speech had a wonderful effect: instantly there was a mighty rush,
all the Little Men hurrying away in all directions, shouting and
tumbling over each other in their haste to get away, and by-and-by
it looked to Martin as if they were having a great struggle or
contest over something. They were all struggling to get possession
of a small closed basket, and it was like a game of football with
hundreds of persons all playing, all fighting for possession of the
ball. At length one of them succeeded in getting hold of the basket
and escaping from all the others who opposed him, and running to
Martin he threw it down at his feet, and lifting the lid displayed
to his sight a bundle of the most beautiful clothes ever seen by
child or man.

With a glad cry Martin pulled them out, but the next moment a very
important-looking Little Man, with a great white beard, sprang
forward and snatched them out of his hand.

"No, no," he shouted. "These are not fit for Martin to wear! They
will soil!" Saying which, he flung them down on that dusty floor
with its litter of cinders and dirt, and began to trample on them as
if in a great passion. Then he snatched them up again and shook them,
and all could see that they were unsoiled and just as bright and
beautiful as before. Then Martin tried to take them from him, but the
other would not let him.

"Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes," shouted the old man.
"They will not even keep out the wet," and with that he thrust them
into a great tub of water, and jumping in began treading them down
with his feet. But when he pulled them out again and shook them
before their faces, all saw that they were as dry and bright as
before.

"Give them to me!" cried Martin, thinking that it was all right now.

"Never shall Martin wear such poor clothes--they will not resist fire,"
cried the old man, and into the flames he flung them.

Martin now gave up all hopes of possessing them, and was ready to
burst into tears at their loss, when out of the fire they were
pulled again, and it was seen that the flames had not injured or
tarnished them in the least. Once more Martin put out his arms and
this time he was allowed to take those beautiful clothes, and then
just as he clasped them to him with a cry of delight he woke!

His head was lying on his new mother's arm, and she was awake
watching him.

"O, mother, what a nice dream I had! O such pretty clothes--why did
I wake so soon?"

She laughed and touched his arms, showing him that they were still
clasping that beautiful suit of clothes to his breast--the very
clothes of his wonderful dream!

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