of
beast walking above in Munza may be heard. Nod had only just time enough
to scamper up his own narrow corridor and throw himself on his mat
before a score of shuffling footfalls followed, and he felt many glassy
eyes peering closely into his face.

All the rest of that night (and for the few nights that followed)
Minimuls stood behind his bed beating faintly on their skin Z[=o][=o]ts
or tambours, while two others sat one on each side of him with fans of
soporiferous Moka-wood. But though they might lull Nod's lids asleep,
they couldn't still his busy brain. He dreamed and dreamed. Now, in his
dreams he was come in safety to his Uncle Assasimmon's, and they were
all rejoicing at a splendid feast, and he was dressed in beads from neck
to heel, with a hat of stained ivory and a peacock's feather. Now he was
alone in the forest in the dark, and a Talanteuti was lamenting in his
ear, "N[=o][=o]m-anossi, N[=o][=o]m-anossi." And now it seemed he sat
beneath deep emerald waters in the silver courts of the Water-middens,
amid the long gold of their streaming hair. But he would awake babbling
with terror, only to smell the creeping odour on the air of broiling
Mulgar.

One day came many Earth-mulgars from distant mounds to see this Prince
of Magic whom their kinsmen had captured in the forest. They stared at
him, sniffed, bowed, and burned smoulder-sticks, and then were led off
to stare too at fat Thumb and fattening Thimble. And that same day the
Minimuls dragged into their kitchen a long straight branch of iron-wood,
which with much labour they turned by charring into a prodigious spit.
And Nod knew his hour was come, that there was no time to be lost.

When he had once more been carried on his mat into his own chamber or
sleeping-place, he drove out the drumming and fan-waving Minimuls,
making signs to them that their noise and odour drove sleep away instead
of charming it to him. He waited on and on, tossing on his mat,
springing up to listen, hearing now some forest beast tread hollowly
overhead, and now a distant cry as if of fear or anguish. But at last,
when all was still, he very cautiously fumbled and fumbled, gnawed and
gnawed with his sharp little dog-teeth, until in the dim light of his
worm-lantern peeped out the strange pale glowing milk-white Wonderstone,
carved all over with labyrinthine beast and bird and unintelligible
characters. It lay there marvellously beautiful, as if in itself it were
all Munza-mulg