Part 35 (1/2)

The trees shook in their thick bark, and the bushes struck their branches together in consternation. The mouse became quite snow-blind, when she peeped outside the door; the stag looked mournfully over the white meadow.

”My muzzle can still break thro' the ice, when I drink,” he said. ”I can still sc.r.a.pe the snow to one side and find a tuft of gra.s.s. But, if things go on like this for another week, then it's all up with me.”

The crow and the chaffinch and the sparrow and the t.i.t had quite lost their voices. They thought of the other birds, who had departed in time, and they who remained knew not where to turn in their distress.

At last they set out in a row to carry their humble greeting to the new lord of the land.

”Here come your birds, O mightiest of all Princes!” said the crow and stood and marked time in the white snow. ”The others left the country as soon as you announced your coming, but we have remained to submit us to your sway. Now be a gracious lord to us and grant us food.”

”We bow before Your Highness!” said the chaffinch.

”We have so longed for you,” said the t.i.t, and he put his head on one side.

And the sparrow said the same as the others, in a tone of deep respect.

But the Prince of Winter laughed at them disdainfully.

”Ha, you time-serving birds! In Summer's time you amused yourselves merrily, in Autumn's, you ate yourselves stout and fat; and as soon as Spring strikes up you will dance to his piping like the others. I hate you and your screaming and squalling and the trees you hop about in.

You are all here to defy me and I shall do for you if I can.” Then he rose in all his strength.

”I have my own birds and now you shall see them.”

He clapped his hands and sang:

”Wee snow-birds, white snow-birds, White snow-birds, wee snow-birds, Through fields skim along!

To jubilant Spring I grudge music of no birds, To Summer, no song.

”Come, Winter's mute messengers, Swift birds and slow birds, White snow-birds, wee snow-birds, Till the valley be soft as down for your nestling Of numberless ice-eggs by frosty rims spanned!

Now rus.h.i.+ng, now resting, White snow-birds, wee snow-birds, Skim soft thro' the land!”

And Winter's birds came.

Suddenly, it darkened, and the air became full of little black specks, which descended and turned into great white snow-flakes.

They fell over the ground in an endless mult.i.tude. There was now not a blade of gra.s.s, nor yet a stone to be seen: everything was smooth and soft and white. Only the trees stood out high in the air and the river flowed black thro' the meadow.

”I know how to crush you,” said the Prince of Winter.

And, when evening came, he told the wind to go down. Then the waves became small and still, Winter stared at them with his cold eyes, and the ice built its bridge from bank to bank. In vain the waves tried to hum Spring's song. There was no strength in their voices.

Next morning there was nothing left to the river but a narrow channel; and, when one more night had pa.s.sed, the bridge was finished. Again the Prince of Winter called for his white birds; and soon the carpet was drawn over the river till it was no longer possible to see where land began or water ended.

But the trees stood boldly out of the deep snow, the firs had kept all their leaves and were so green that it was quite shocking to behold.

Wherever they stood, they were a protection against the frost and a shelter against the snow; and the chaffinch and the other small birds found refuge under their roofs.

The Prince of Winter looked at them angrily.

”If I could but break you!” he said. ”You stand in the midst of my kingdom keeping guard for Summer and you give shelter to the birds who disturb the peace of my land. If only I had snow enough to bury you!”

But the trees stood strong under Winter's wrath and waved their long branches.