3 THE OWL [Êàðòèíêà: i_006.jpg]
SEVERAL times during the day Gobbolino begged the little wooden horse to set him down and go back to Uncle Peder and his wife, but the horse only said:
“Wait a little! Only just a little while longer and we shall have come to the end of the forest I will go home then.”
At last it seemed that the trees were thinning out, and the dense woods were coming to an end.
But the light that was filtering through the branches was less bright, because the sun had gone behind the clouds, and it became quite obvious that a large storm was blowing up in the sky.
“Now isn’t that tiresome!” said the little wooden horse. “While we were deep inside the forest it couldn’t have harmed us very much, but now that the trees are thinner there is no shelter and nowhere to hide ourselves. We shall just have to make up our minds to get soaking wet until the storm is over.”
Beyond the trees the landscape spread far out across meadows and valleys, and still infinitely distant appeared the ramparts of the Hurricane Mountains, now shrouded in a pall of driving rain.
“I thought we must be nearly there!” said Gobbolino sorrowfully. “They look every bit as far away as when I first left home. And just suppose, when I arrive there, I find my sister is not there at all? Whatever shall I do?”
They both realized that besides the rain, night was now falling, and as the darkness slowly enveloped them they could not tell if it were stormclouds or evening that was stealing the daylight out of the sky.
The rainclouds dallied over the meadows, but a few heavy drops spattered Gobbolino and the little wooden horse huddling together under a tree.
Suddenly Gobbolino became aware of a large owl sitting above them on a branch, looking at them very seriously out of round amber eyes, which it closed the moment they looked back at it.
Remembering the owl who had brought him his sister’s message he stood on his hind legs with his paws reaching up the bole of the tree, while he begged the owl to tell him if he really were the same bird or quite a different one.
The owl took absolutely no notice of him. If anything it closed its eyes rather tighter than before.
It must be quite another owl, Gobbolino thought, but on the other hand, owls flew far and wide, and knew a great deal about the goings-on in field and forest, and in the district round them.
“Sir Owl!” Gobbolino called politely. “Please can you tell me one thing? Do you know whether a witch still lives in the Hurricane Mountains, in a cavern right at the top?”
The owls great amber eyes opened wide for a moment, and then shut up tightly, like boxes.
“Oh, please, please tell me, Sir Owl,” Gobbolino pleaded. “It is so very important to me to know if there is a cavern up there still lived in by a witch! Please tell me if you can! Please do!”
The owl gave the faintest nod of its head, although its eyes remained tightly closed.
“And does the witch have a cat?” asked Gobbolino, trembling with excitement.
This time the owl’s nod was so faint that he looked down at the wooden horse in perplexity.
“It said ‘yes’!” said the little wooden horse quite positively. “But I think you forgot to say “Thank you!’”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you, kind Owl!” said Gobbolino, much abashed. “And please, sir, please will you tell me.. does the cat have a name? And can you tell me if that name could be Sootica?”
At that, the owl gave such a loud screech that both the friends were startled. Gobbolino fell backwards from the tree, and at the same moment the owl left the branch above and sailed away into the darkness.
The single drops of rain became a downpour that battered the scanty branches and fell upon their heads like wet pebbles. The little wooden horse turned his head towards the tree and told Gobbolino to crouch underneath his wooden body, but there was not much protection there. In his turn Gobbolino tried to shroud the little wooden horse in his fur.
[Êàðòèíêà: i_007.jpg]
“…does the cat have a name?”
“How ashamed I am at bringing you so far from your home!” Gobbolino said. “You could be warm and comfortable beside your own kitchen fire if you had not chosen to come and help me find my little sister. First thing in the morning you must go home, for I can see my way now as far as the mountains, and when the storm is over and the daylight comes I can find the road to them alone.”
“We will see about that,” said the little wooden horse, “but just remember, I came of my own accord. You have nothing to feel ashamed about.”
It became so dark that they could no longer see each other, but Gobbolino knew his friend was there by the feel of his strong and sturdy legs, and the four wooden wheels at the ends of them, while the little wooden horse could feel Gobbolino’s soft coat until the rain turned it into a soaking wet blanket that dripped wet on to the earth around them.
Above them the storm roared and raged till they seemed surrounded by clamour and the relentless sweep of the drenching rain.
Suddenly the noise became much fainter, and then ceased. At the same time something like a thick, soft eiderdown descended gently on top of them, wrapping them closely and blotting out the sound of the storm. Their cold wet bodies began to glow with warmth and dry themselves, their feet felt warm and cosy, and they sank gratefully into the soft feathers of the owl’s wings spread over the pair of them, to dry and comfort them during the night.
4THE CHASE [Êàðòèíêà: i_008.jpg]
They awoke to bright sunlight. The owl was gone, leaving them warm and dry.
Gobbolino’s fur shone like silk, while the paint on the little wooden horse gleamed as if it had just been polished.
The Hurricane Mountains were clean and blue in the morning light. They did not look so far away after all.
“Why!. I shall get there by the evening!” said Gobbolino joyously. “Now you can go home again, my kind friend, because I really cannot accept your kindness any longer. You can be quite certain that by this time tomorrow I will have found my little sister Sootica!.”
The little wooden horse looked doubtful.
“And what then?” he said. “After such a long journey you will be much too tired to confront the witch or any other danger that may threaten her. While I am beside you, you can ride on my back and keep your strength for any adventures still to come. I will go just a little further with you before I turn back.”
Gobbolino could only be grateful, as much for his company as for his help and kindness. His paws were nearly healed, and since there was no sign of the owl, they left the forest and stepped out across the vast plateau of fields and meadows towards the mountains.
They were very glad of the food that the old woman had given them for their journey, and they had eaten their dinner beside a little stream in the middle of the plain when Gobbolino raised his head and exclaimed, “What is that strange noise I can hear?”
The little wooden horse listened too, but the noise had died away, and they finished their meal.
Gobbolino heard it again.
“There! Far away to the west of us! It sounds like wild birds crying, only different.. quite different! Don’t you hear it yourself?”
The little wooden horse did hear it. He raised his wooden head and sniffed the air.
“I can hear it!” he said. “And I think we ought to go back to the forest as quickly as we can!”
“What?” exclaimed Gobbolino in horror. “When we have come so far? Just look what a long way behind us the trees are! Why! We are more than halfway to the mountains already! Don’t let’s go back! Let’s go on as quickly as we can!”
The sound had ceased. The little wooden horse jumped to his feet and stood looking westward with his ears pricked.
“I think we should go back to the forest!” he repeated solemnly.