“We are starting up zee ’ill, chuff-a-chuff, chuff-a-chuff, chuff-a- chufff panted Madame Hortense. “Make more zee steam.” So Peter and Simon piled more and more logs on, and the fire grew brighter and the sparks flew out, so that the little train left a trail like a comet behind it as it chuffed on.
“Ha! ha!” laughed Parrot, as Madame Hortense went faster and faster, her little wheels singing on the rails. “By Jove, you’re game, Hortense my dear. Always did enjoy train travel, but with you it’s positively celestial.”
“Flatterer,” Madame Hortense panted, and gave a couple of shrill wheep, wheeps on her whistle to show how pleased she was.
When they were halfway up the mountainside she came to a panting, gasping halt in a cloud of steam.
“Sacree couchette,” she gasped, the steam rising round her like a silver cloud in the moonlight. “ ’Ere we rest for a moment, and you may give me a drink.”
So Peter and Simon took turns fetching water from a nearby waterfall for Madame Hortense.
Presently, with her boiler full, Madame Hortense was ready to proceed.
“It’s not far now, is it, Hortense?” asked Parrot, as they climbed aboard.
“No, only a leetle bit more,” she replied, as she started to chuff her way up the slope.
Soon the track leveled out. On either side lay a deep gorge in which the river squeezed between the rocks and frothed and bubbled and winked in the moonlight. Then ahead of them stretched a cliff face in which were two tunnels, like two black, gaping mouths. The track at this point divided and disappeared into these two tunnels.
Madame Hortense drew to a halt by the point switch. “Pleeze to descend and sw itch zee points,” she panted. “It eez zee left-’and tunnel we want.”
Peter and Simon got down onto the track, and together—for the points lever was very stiff—they switched the points. Then they climbed aboard again.
Slowly Madame Hortense moved forward and went clackety- clack over the points and then picked up speed.
The tunnel loomed closer and closer, larger and larger, like the mouth of a yawning giant; and Penelope—not that she was frightened, but because it seemed the thing to do in the circumstances—took hold of Peter’s and Simon’s hands. Then they dived into the tunnel, and Madame Hortense startled them all by letting out two ear-splitting screams on her whistle.
“Here,” shouted Parrot, “what’s that for?”
“Zee bats,” panted Madame Hortense. “Zay hang on zee roof, poor zings, and become suffocated if I do not warn zem.”
It was very eerie going through the tunnel, because the only light they had was the light from Madame Hortense’s boiler, and so they could catch only vague glimpses of the roof with its stalactites hanging down like spear tips, dripping water.
Presently Madame Hortense gave another sharp scream on her whistle. “Pleeze to put on zee brakes, slowly,” she cried. “We ’ave arrived.” Slowly Peter and Simon applied the brakes, and with much hoarse gasping and puffing the little train drew to a halt.
“All alight for Mythologia. Mythologia this stop,” shouted Parrot, and his voice echoed and reechoed in the tunnel.
“A nasty, damp place,” said Dulcibelle’s voice. “You should be wearing your cloak. If you catch a chill, don’t blame me.”
They got down onto the track and unloaded their supplies and Parrot’s cage. Then they clustered round Madame Hortense to say good-bye.
“I think you’re the most wonderful train,” said Penelope, “and it was a gorgeous ride. Thank you very much.”
“It was nozzing, cherie,” said Madame Hortense. “It doz show you what we old ones can do, n'est-ce pas?”
“Madame Hortense, it was an honor to ride in you,” said Peter.
“A privilege and an honor, Madame,” said Simon.
“You drove me very well,” said Madame Hortense, “very well indeed.”
“Hortense,” said Parrot, “I, my friends, and the whole of Mythologia are deeply grateful to you. We will never forget you.”
“Dear Perroquet” said Madame Hortense, “you know zat for you I will always do anyzing.”
“You’ll be all right going back?” asked Parrot.
“Yes, mon brave, I will—’ow you say?—coast back. It eez down zee ’ill all zee way. Now, you know zee way? It eez zee branch tunnel on zee left, about fifteen meters away.”
“Right,” said Parrot. “We’ll be off, then. Good-bye, dear Hortense, and thank you again.”
“Good-bye, mon Perroquet, and bonne chance,” sighed Madame Hortense in a sentimental cloud of steam.
Lighting their flashlights, the children made their way down the tunnel for about a hundred and fifty feet.
“Here it is,” Parrot said suddenly. “The entrance to Mythologia.” Shining their flashlights, the children could see a cleft in the rock on the side of the tunnel—a cleft some three feet wide and six feet high that looked rather like a narrow church door.
“This is the frontier post,” explained Parrot. “Five minutes’ walk and we’ll be in Mythologia.”
The tunnel was narrow, so that they had to go in single file. Peter went first with a flashlight, carrying Parrot’s cage. Next came Penelope (with Parrot perched on her shoulder) carrying the food supplies, the first aid kit, and the weapons. Simon brought up the rear, carrying the dinghy.
“Go a bit cautiously,” whispered Parrot hoarsely. “I don’t think it’s very likely—because they’re such slovenly creatures—but it is just possible that they may have put a sentry on duty here, to make sure I don’t get back.”
They rounded a corner in the passage, and Peter stopped so suddenly that Penelope bumped into him and Simon bumped into Penelope.
“What’s the matter?” asked Penelope.
“Shhh . . . sh,” whispered Peter. “There’s a light up ahead.”
“Let me have a look,” said Parrot, hopping off Penelope’s shoulder and onto Peter’s.
They stood silent, holding their breath, while Parrot peered ahead. “No, that’s all right, it’s not a light. It’s the entrance,” he said, at last. “That’s the dawn you can see.”
“Dawn?” said Peter. “Are you sure, Parrot?” It’s far too late for dawn.”
“Not in Mythologia,” said Parrot. “It’s dawn all day long, except when it’s night.”
“What on earth do you mean, ‘It’s dawn all day’?” asked Penelope.
“Well,” explained Parrot, “when H.H. was studying to be a magician he used to have to get up at dawn, and he very soon found that it was the loveliest time of the day—all fresh and calm and the colors and everything so bright after a good night’s sleep. So, when he was inventing Mythologia, he decided it would be dawn all day, except for eight hours of night. You’ll see what I mean in a minute.”
Eventually, they stepped out at the end of the tunnel and stood blinking at the scene that lay before them. The sky (or what appeared to be the sky) above them was a delicate shade of jade green fading into pale powder blue in places. Floating in it were armadas of tiny, fat, comfortable-looking clouds, in primrose yellow, pale pink, and white. The sun (or what appeared to be the sun) was just above the horizon, stationary, casting a lovely, delicate web of golden light over everything. Nearby a tiny stream—the color of pale sherry—fell in a series of delicate waterfalls over terra cotta red rocks; and at the base of each waterfall was a deep, calm pool full of lazily moving blue fish with scarlet fins and tails. The grass that the children stood on was deep purple, like heather, and very soft and springy to walk on; it looked as if it had been newly mown. It was studded with innumerable multicolored flowers whose petals looked as though they were made out of glass, and interspersed among them were groups of bright lemon yellow mushrooms decorated with black spots. Farther down the valley stretched a forest of trees with big blue leaves and chocolate-colored trunks—trunks that looked very knobbly and lumpy from a distance. Far, far on the horizon, almost hidden by morning mists, the children could see what they took to be the great inland sea which Parrot had described, gleaming and glittering like champagne in the dawn light.