"Oh yes, ma’am," the little wooden horse replied politely, "but I am getting rather tired, ma’am, and I should like to go home!"
"Oh fiddlesticks! We are only halfway through the night!" scoffed the witch. "My broomstick never got tired or asked to go home. And besides, I am doing all the work! How can you possibly be tired?"
The little wooden horse said nothing. But the next time they flew over the plain it seemed to him that the black speck had moved quite a lot nearer to the foot of the Hurricane Mountains.
"Please, ma’am," he pleaded, "I would like to go home now!"
"You would like to go home?" jeered the witch. "Why we haven’t nearly finished our ridel Wait and see what I can show you! Do you see that great bank of thunderclouds? Have you noticed those lightning flashes? Now watch what we will do with them!"
Gripping the little wooden horse even tighter between her knees she plunged into the mass of tossing' thunderclouds, diving in and out of them as if they had been breakers on a sea shore. It was exhilarating, it was exciting. If the little wooden horse had been there of his own accord he would have revelled in the plunging and the tumbling, the diving between flashes of lightning and the witch’s wild, triumphant shouts in reply to the pealing of the thunder. He even joined in with a shrill whinny as they chased after the rolling echoes and leapt over the lightning that struck at them like swordblades.
"There!" yelled the witch. "I told you that you would enjoy it!"
"Please, ma’am," said the little wooden horse, "I should like to go home!"
She only laughed at him as the pair of them were tossed aloft and came streaking down a lightning flash so brilliant it seemed about to cut them in two.
At last even the witch grew tired of the breathtaking game. Her grasp faltered a little, and for an awful moment the little wooden horse thought she might be going to let him go, but she recovered herself, and sailed out of the tumult of the storm into the quieter circle of the night, lit by a thousand stars.
Now, thought the little wooden horse, she is bound to have had enough of her fun, and we will be able to go back to the cavern.
The moon had vanished behind the clouds at the edge of the storm, but its light still challenged the darkness, and out on the plain the little black speck had nearly reached its goal, although it was difficult to pick it out against the shadows.
In the east, a new and pinkish light was appearing, as morning crept very slowly over the edge of the earth.
"Can we go home now, please, ma’am?" asked the little wooden horse.
He had much better not have spoken, for his request put the witch into a contrary mood.
"Why, it isn’t morning yet!" she protested. "How feeble you are! Why, my cat Sootica and my old broomstick used to fly and fly and fly till the daylight blinded us!"
"I am sorry, ma’am," said the little wooden horse, "but please may we go home now?"
"Just one more turn!" said the witch reluctantly. "And then maybe another.."
Away she sailed, round and round the great arches of the sky, and when once more the plain came into sight the little wooden horse could not see anyone on it at all. True, the daylight had come, and all kinds of shadows and rocks were standing up on the earth that might or might not be human beings, but the little wooden horse grew sick at heart when he saw that none of them were moving, as far as his eye could see.
Suddenly, with a magnificent sweep the witch came down on the crest of the Hurricane Mountains, at the same moment as the sun’s first rays shot into the sky. Far away in the north the last of the storm died away, and the clouds dispersed. A golden light stole over the land below as the morning came.
They came to rest beside the cavern, and the witch dismounted, staggering inside like a rider aching from long riding and a hard saddle.
"But a wooden horse is better than a broomstick to ridel" she said approvingly. "I shall have to make a spell to give you flying powers, and we will have some magnificent journeys together!"
She took off her hat and her shoes, sat down on her stool and went almost immediately to sleep.
The little wooden horse ran to awaken Gobbolino, who was fast asleep beside the cauldron.
"Come quickly! Quickly!" said the little wooden horse. "There is not a moment to be lost!"
16 SOOTICA ON HER WAY
Two DAYS BEFORE THIS, when the old priest met a little black cat at the door of his house, he thought at first it was Gobbolino, and called to his housekeeper to get a saucer of milk and some other dainties for the little cat to eat.
He was very glad to see it again, and made Sootica very welcome, not least because he thought she had rid the church of the bats that had plagued the congregation for so long. Already the people were coming back to church, and the bells were rung joyously at the proper hours.
Sootica, for her part, had her eye on the tidy warm parsonage, and thought this was not at all a bad place for a cat to make her home. Already the big open world frightened her a little, but the old priest seemed very kind and harmless, while she felt positive her own mistress, the witch, would never dare to come near so holy a place as the church.
While he went to get the milk she sat in the sun washing her face and trying to make up her mind whether she would trouble to go any further when there was such a comfortable place close at hand to live in.
"But where is your friend, the little wooden horse?" the old priest asked her, coming back from the parsonage kitchen.
"Oh, he’s still up in the mountain!" said Sootica carelessly.
Hearing her voice, which was rather loud and shrill, the old priest stared at her, and at the same moment the housekeeper appeared, carrying a saucer of milk and a plate full of food that looked very good to eat.
The housekeeper stared too.
"That’s not the cat you had before," she exclaimed. "I only caught a glimpse of it, to be sure, but I’ll swear it had slightly tabby fur and one white paw, and its eyes were blue! Look at this one’s feet — black as ink, all of them — and its eyes are green as little apples!"
Sootica looked at her angrily and sure enough, the flashing of her eyes was a brilliant emerald green.
She opened her mouth to spit, but thought better of it and applied it instead to the good food that the housekeeper had brought for her to eat.
"This is very extraordinary!" said the priest, puzzled. "Really this cat is very like the other one! Can it be.. no! It is hardly possible.. but is it the little sister Sootica that Gobbolino talked about? The sister he was going up the Hurricane Mountains to rescue?"
With her mouth full of food and splashes of milk round her chops Sootica mewed agreement. The old priest was more puzzled than ever.
"But what are you doing here without your brother, my young friend?" he asked her.
Sootica merely dipped her nose in the plate and went on eating. She did not intend to begin explaining to these people until she had eaten her fill.
"He was so anxious to save you!" the old priest went on reproachfully. "I never saw a cat so concerned about his sister! And his wooden friend likewise! I do pray and trust that no harm has come to them in saving you from the witch?"
"Oh none! None!" said Sootica carelessly licking the last of the gravy from the dish. "He will be passing by later in the day I do assure you, though it is quite possible he will not have time to pay a call."
"I am glad to think he will be on his way home," said the priest, much relieved. "And tell me, are the bats settled in their new quarters? And are they likely to stop in their homes?"
"Oh positively! Positively!" said Sootica, washing away, though not very carefully. "They have beautiful new homes, and so has my brother Gobbolino, and so has the little wooden horse, and it is their own affair if they don’t want to stay there! They all have beautiful new homes to live in except poor little me!"