Gaily bedight, A gallant knight In sunshine and shadow Journeyed long, Singing a song, In search of El Dorado.

Or from "The Mole of Marimolena"

I was turning fifty-odd when the everlasting G.o.d Smote a path of molten gold across the blue, Says, "There's many million men would have done the like again, But you didn't, and, my man, there's hope for you.

"Start sheets and sail for the Mole-- For the old rotten Mole of Marimolena; There's maybe some one there That you're longing to treat fair, On the dismal, woeful Mole of Marimolena."

And other deep-sea chanteys,--the one in which the pirate found the Lady in the C-a-a-bin and slivered off her head, or back to Red Renard, or further to his own campaign song, and furthest of all to the bad, bad young dog of a crow. Then he got quite out of breath, and pausing for a moment to catch it, noted for the first time the extreme bitterness of the cold. It stung the face like insects. "Woof!" he said. "And now for lost time."

Again he stepped out, but with each step the snow became deeper, and presently he floundered in to his waist. "Must be a ditch!" he said, turning a little to the right and exclaiming, "Thought so!" as the wading got shallower. Whereupon he stepped into a deep hole and fell.

After plunging and plowing about, it was brought home to him that he had lost the path. Even at that the difficulty remained one of hard walking alone, for he had been familiar with that country since childhood, and knew the precise direction in which it was necessary for him to locomote. It was a pity that the only structure in the vicinity was an ancient and deserted house,--it lay just off there,--as he should have liked to have warmed himself by a good fire before going farther. He remembered that there were a partly preserved stove in the deserted house, broken laths, and naily boards, and swathes of curious old wall-papers, layer upon layer, which, dampening and rotting from the wall, hung raggedly down. He had once explored the house with Margaret, and it seemed almost wise to go to the place and make a fire. But on account of the delay involved and the approach of darkness, he discarded the notion, and, a little impatient at being badly used by a neighborhood he knew so well, struggled on.

"Troubles," he said, "what sort of a storm is this anyway? Did you ever see anything quite like it round here? Because I never did. It must be like those things they have out West, when millions of poor little baa-sheeps and horses and cattles freeze to death. I'd hate to be a horse out in this, but I wish I had one. I--"

If, as a child, you have ever slipped, though only an inch, while climbing over roofs, you will know that sudden, stabbing, sinking feeling that came to Aladdin and stopped the beating of his heart by the hairbreadth of a second. He had been proceeding chin on breast, and head bent against the wind, or he would have seen it before, for it was a notable landmark in that part of the world, and showed him that he had been making way, not toward his destination, but toward the wilderness.

He gazed up at the great black blasted pine, its waist the height of a tall tree, and its two lonely lightning-scathed and white arms stretched out like a malediction; and for a moment he had to take himself in hand.

After a little he mastered the fear that had seized him.

"It's only a poor old lonely vegetable out in the cold," he said. "And it shows us exactly where we are and exactly which way we have to go."

He set himself right, and, with head lowered and hands clenched, again started on. But he was beginning to be very much bored, and sensible that his legs were not accustomed to being used so hard. Furthermore, there was a little difficulty--not by any means an insurmountable one--in steering straight, because of the constantly varying point of the compa.s.s in which the wind blew. He went on for a long time....

He began to look for the high ground to decline, as it should, about now, if it was the high ground he took it for. "I ought to be getting somewhere," he said.

And, G.o.d help him! tired out, half frozen and very foot-sore, he was getting somewhere, for, glancing up, he again beheld the gigantic and demoniac shape of the blasted pine.

It is on prairies and among mountains, far from the habitations of men, that man is most readily terrified before nature, and not on the three-mile primrose way from a railway accident to a house-party. But for a moment cold terror struck at Aladdin like a serpent, and the marrow in his bones froze. Before he could succeed in reducing this awful feeling to one of acute anxiety alone, he had to talk to himself and explain things as to a child.

"Then it is true, Troubles, old man," he said, "about a person's tendency to go to the left. That's interesting, isn't it? But what do we care? Being gifted with a certain (flighty, it is true) intelligence, we will simply take pains, and every step pull a little to the right; and that will make us go straight. Come now-keep thinking about it-every step!"

As the end of the day approached, a lull came in the gale, and the snow fell less freely. The consequently widened horizon of vision was eminently comforting, and Aladdin's unpleasant feeling of anxiety almost disappeared.

Suddenly he was aware of a red horse.

XVII

It was standing almost leg-clear, in an angle of what seemed a drifted-over snake-fence. Its ugly, Roman-nosed head was thrown up and out, as if about to neigh.

"Poor beastie," said Aladdin, after a start. "You must be direfful cold, but we'll ride you, and that will make you warm, and us cold, and we'll all get along faster."

Drawing near, he began to gentle the horse and call it pet names. It was a huge brute, over seventeen hands high, and Aladdin, aided only by a rickety fence, and a pair of legs that would hardly support him, was appalled by the idea of having to climb to that lofty eminence, its back. Without doubt he was dreadfully tired.

"The fence will help, old man" he said. "Here, you, pay attention and get over." He tried to insinuate himself between the horse and the fence, but the horse did not seem inclined to move.

"Get over, you!" he said, and gave a shove. The horse moved a little, very unwillingly. "Farther yet," said Aladdin: "Get over, you, get over." Again he shoved; this time harder. He slapped the great shoulder with his open hand. And again the horse moved, but very slowly. "You're an unwilling brute, aren't you?" he said angrily.

For answer the thing tottered, and, to his horror, began to fall, at first slowly, but ever with accelerating speed, until, in the exact att.i.tude in which it had stood by the fence,--the great Roman-nosed head thrown up and out, as if to neigh,--he beheld the horse stretched before him on the ground, and noted for the first time the awful death-like glint of the yellow teeth through the parting of the lips.

He went very gravely from that place, for he had been looking upon death by freezing, and he himself was terribly cold, terribly tired, and--he admitted it now--completely lost.

But he went on for a long time--four or five hundred years. And it grew darker and colder.

He began to talk to himself, to try and steady himself, as he had done ever since childhood at forsaken times.

"Troubles," he said, "You're full of troubles, aren't you, old man? You always were. But this is the worst. You can't walk very much farther, can you? I can't. And if you don't get helped by some one pretty soon, you're going to come to the end of your troubles. And, Troubles, do you know, I think that's what's going to happen to you and me, and I want you to stand up to it if it comes [gulp] and face it like a man. Now let's rest a little, Troubles, will we?"

Troubles and Aladdin rested a little. When the rest was over they could hardly move, and they began to see the end of a young man that they had hoped would live a long time and be very happy. They went on.

"Troubles," said Aladdin, "do you suppose she knows that we are out here, perhaps dying? We would know if she were, wouldn't we? And do you think she cares? Liar, you know she cares, and a lot. She wouldn't be she if she didn't care. But we didn't think that all the years of waiting and hoping and loving and trying to be something would end like this, did we, Troubles? We thought that it might end with the G.o.dlike Manners (whom we wouldn't help if he were freezing to death, would we?), but not like this--O Lord G.o.d, not like this!... And we weren't sure it would end with Manners; we were going to fight it out to a mighty good finish, weren't we, Troubles? But now it's going to end in a mighty good storm, and you're going to die for all your troubles, Troubles... And I'm talking to you so that we won't lose our sand, even if we are afraid to die, and there's no one looking on."

Though Aladdin stopped making talk in his head, the talk kept going on by itself; and he suddenly shouted aloud for it to stop. Then he began to whimper and shiver, for he thought that his mind was going.

Presently he shook himself.

"Troubles," he said, "we've only a little farther to go--just as far as our feet will carry us, and no farther. That's the proper way to finish.

And for G.o.d's sake keep sane. We won't give her up yet!"

Ten steps and years pa.s.sed.

"Troubles," said Aladdin, "we're going to call for help, and if it don't come, which it won't, we're going to try and be calm. It seems simplest and looks best to be calm."

Aladdin stood there crying aloud for the help of man, but it did not come. And then he cried for the help of G.o.d. And he stood there waiting--waiting for it to come.

"We must help ourselves, Troubles," he said, with a desperate effort to be calm. "We've got ten steps left in us. Now, then, one--two--"

During the taking of those ten steps the snow ceased entirely to fall, and black night enveloped the earth.

Aladdin was all numb, and he wished to sleep, but he made the ten steps into eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, before his limbs refused to act, and he fell forward in the snow. He managed to raise himself and crawl a little way. He saw a light afar off, and guessing that it must be an angel, held out his hands to it--and one of them encountered a something in the dark.

Even through his thick mitten it felt round and smooth and colder than his fingers, like a ball of ice. Then Aladdin laughed aloud, for he knew that his last walk upon earth had been in the form of a silly circle. He had returned to the dead horse, and his gloved hand was resting upon its frozen eye. He shrieked with laughter and became heavy with a desire to sleep.

He sank deliciously down, and began to see showers of roses, when it flashed upon him that this was not sleep, but death.

It was like lifting prodigious dumb-bells to get his eyes to open, and a return to consciousness was like the stabbing of knives. But he opened his eyes and roused himself.

"I won't give her up yet," he cried.

And then, by the help of G.o.d Almighty, he crawled the whole length of the horse.

And fell asleep.