Chapter II: Part 2

How glorious it was! The hot bubbling waters, the clear crystal depths, and the sides and floor of the bath yielding to the touch, as though padded with velvet! Was ever such a bath enjoyed before? Shouting and singing, the little gnomes seized Hal and popped him over the edge of the basin, and plump he fell into a stream of cold water on the other side. What a big breath he pulled at first, and then, how delicious the glow and the dive into the clear depths! What a good swim Hal had up the cold stream, racing the little gnomes who spluttered and splashed after him! Then back they all went into the blue lake, revelling in the tingling warmth. Again, out of that into another bath close by, where countless crystal bubbles rose from the soft sandy floor, playing round the bathers like the dancing bubbles of sparkling wine.

But Hal heard Santa Claus calling to him to make haste, and he reluctantly jumped out, and flinging on his clothes, shouted to the gnomes, “I’ll come here for my Saturday-night tub, if you don’t mind; it’s awfully jolly.”

“All right,” answered the gnomes, running after Hal, who by this time had joined Cis and Santa Claus.

“Won’t you all come and have breakfast with us?” asked Red Cap.

“Well, I am rather hungry, and I expect Cis is, too. But what have you got for breakfast, Mr. Red Cap?”

“Porridge, to be sure. Didn’t you know we were hard-working Scotch boys? Who else would work as hard, or get as much out of the earth as we do?” answered a gnome in a huffed tone.

“I don’t know, I’m sure; but please don’t be offended,” replied Hal, “we’ll eat some porridge with pleasure.—or _try_ to,” he added in a low voice, for he did not care for porridge at home.

Red Cap led the way to where in the earth was the porridge-pot—a large hole full of boiling cream-coloured porridge, that hissed, and bubbled, and looked tempting enough. Cis and Hal, following the example of their guide, dipped sticks into it, and tasted the smooth paste, and what grimaces they both made, which they tried not to let Red Cap see! For the porridge was anything but pleasant, being like a mixture of rotten eggs and alum.

“Isn’t it good?” asked Red Cap, smacking his lips over it.

“Well,” said Cis, who wished to be polite, “it certainly is well boiled, and it is not at all lumpy, but—isn’t it ra—ther—earthy?”

Then, seeing the gnome’s disappointed face, she added, “But never mind, we’re trying to enjoy it; but I expect you have to be brought up to it, Mr. Red Cap, really to like it.”

“We’ll come for our next picnic here, and bring some tea for you,” said Hal, trying to make friends with Red Cap, “and perhaps you’ll boil the kettle for us—no, I mean, give us the water already boiled. I’m afraid it will smell and taste of rotten eggs, but that can’t be helped,” added Hal, in a low voice, to little Cis, sniffing the sulphurous fumes rising from the boiling cauldrons on all sides.

Santa Claus and the children now walked on, and Cis and Hal, getting accustomed to the strange scenes around, began to feel quite brave.

“There are not many birds here, Mr. Santa Claus,” said Cis, for they had only seen a few blight-birds flitting about; only the two little robins had come part of the way with her into the valley, then they had twittered their good-bye, and Cis missed her little feathered friends.

“See,” replied Santa Claus, and there amid the feathery manuka was an open space covered with layers of creamy-coloured stone, and in the centre was what looked like a huge bird’s nest,[15] formed of large white stems and branches crossed and recrossed, and pieces of petrified moss between. Each little twig was heavily laden with drops, apparently frozen, some thick as milk, some clear as crystal, while round and overhead the bushes too were white as snow.

“How beautiful!” cried Hal.

“But where is the bird, Mr. Santa Claus?” asked little Cis, “and what a big one it must be to make that nest!”

“Wait a little, and if you do not see the bird you shall hear him sing,” laughed Santa Claus.

The children stood silently waiting. Soon a low rumbling was heard below their feet, followed by hissing and bubbling noises that grew nearer and nearer, then died away, to begin again, louder, nearer than before, and making Cis creep up close to her brother and Santa Claus. Awe-struck, the children watched, and soon from the middle of the nest they saw bubbling waters that came and went in fitful gushes, as though battling against some unseen power below,—then roaring, fighting, boiling, a mighty column shot up high into the air above their heads, and clouds of steam rolled around, hiding for a little while the trees, and even the children, in a misty veil.[16] How beautiful the clear drops of the mighty fountain looked, as the water’s rose and fell, shining like dancing diamonds in the dawning light! Then out from their holes came the gnomes, singing again their merry song.

We feed the fires till the cold streams boil,
We spare no trouble we spare no toil:
We make the dark pools bubble and hiss
Till the waters leap up the trees to kiss,
With a roar, and a whirr and a rush so high
That the bright drops sparkle and dance in the sky
Then fall with a soft tra la la la! tra la la la!
And we laugh as they fall. Ha ha! ha ha!]

Then they danced around the roaring geyser, till the waters fell lower and lower, and amid sobs and sighs died away in the deep dark hole, and all was still and silent as before in the mysterious bird’s nest.

Without waiting to hear the children’s wondering remarks, Santa Claus took them by the hand, and they seemed to pass quickly over a large tract of country, until they came to a creek, which they soon saw from its steaming sides was hot, and which ran into a lake lying quiet and peaceful;—only the pukekos[17] rose now and again, screeching from the reedy shallows. Pushing their way through thick scrub, and walking with great care between bubbling cauldrons and deep holes from which steam belched forth with a mighty roar and thud, Hal found it difficult to carry the Star of Love safely, and asked Santa Claus what he should do with it.

“Hold it high overhead, and then stop for a minute and watch,” replied Santa Claus, and, doing as he was bid, Hal was astonished to see the Star float away into the pale grey sky, becoming fainter and fainter, till it disappeared in the misty dawn.

“You have carried it so long with care,” said Santa Claus, “that by day, though unseen, it will ever shine to guide you, and at night, though passing clouds may sometimes hide it, if you look for it, you will soon find it again.”

“I shall look for it, Mr. Santa Claus,” said little Cis; “I often see the stars shining in at my window when I am in bed, and I shall ask God not to let the angels forget to light that beautiful one for me to see.”

As little Cis finished speaking, their old friend Red Cap appeared on the path before them.

“Where did you come from?” cried Hal, “we left you at the bird’s nest.”

“Yes,” answered Red Cap, “but we gnomes do not follow the paths you mortals tread, but have many and hidden passages under the earth, and many underground streams by which we pass quickly from south to north. So, here I am, you see, and now I am going to show you the realm of the King and Queen of the Gnomes.”

“That _will_ be jolly!” cried Hal.

“Will it take very long, Mr. Red Cap?” asked Cis. “I have been thinking of mother, and she will want me back soon, I am sure.” And the child’s face grew thoughtful, and her large eyes looked sad and wistful.

“You shall be back for breakfast on Christmas morning, I promise you, little Cis,” said Santa Claus; “Mother will not expect you before then. I am going to leave you a little while with Red Cap now, for I have some other children expecting me before the sun is up; but I will meet you after you have seen where the King and Queen of the Gnomes live.”

“You will not forget us, Mr. Santa Claus, will you?” asked Cis, “because we could never get home without you.”

“No fear of that, little one, I never fail the children who believe in me,” and so saying he disappeared from their sight. Hal called out,—

“Good-bye, old fellow, I hope you’ll make haste back,” and then, taking Cis’s hand, for he thought she was a little timid, he followed Red Cap until they came to the end of the thick bushes. “Look,” said Red Cap, “this is the dwelling place of our King and Queen.” Beautiful indeed was the sight that met their gaze; from the edge of the lake, tier upon tier of milky white terraces[18] sloped upwards to a great height, and over them fell a glistening veil of water which filled the air with its rippling song as it sought the placid lake below.

“Oh! let us paddle,” said Hal to Cis, and no sooner was it said than done, and how delightful was the soft, warm water trickling over their feet!

The children then followed as Red Cap led the way from tier to tier, looking into the numberless marble baths of all shapes and sizes that they passed, filled with coloured waters, clear and inviting, pale blue and green—the sides of the baths edged with fantastic wreaths and carved alabaster fringe, from the countless points of which overflowing drops fell with a soft musical sound.

How dazzling was the milky white floor as they stepped upwards and looked down on the stretching terraces gemmed with their glistening pools! Truly it was wonderland! A fit dwelling-place for the King and Queen; a fit scene for the midnight revels of Gnomes and Fays! Hal and Cis found many a little petrified treasure as they lingered here and there,—twigs and bits of moss and fern, and even insects white and glistening as the terrace itself.

“Oh! see, Mr. Red Cap,” called out little Cis, picking up what looked like a perfect white dragonfly, “what has happened to the poor dragonfly!” and she held it in her hand tenderly.

“That is the way the gnomes punish any insect that comes near where our King and Queen live,” answered Red Cap; “the singing waters lure them in, and then turn them to stone itself.”

“Poor things,” said little Cis, “how hard-hearted the pretty waters must be, and they look so soft and nice.”

“That is often the way with things,” remarked Red Cap; “at least so I’ve heard it said.”

As they came near the topmost tier of baths, the water became hotter and hotter, and there, in a gorge of the hill side, with the feathery manuka to its very edge, was a huge cauldron of opal-coloured steaming water.

Side by side, with timid steps, the children went close to the edge, and, looking down, saw what Red Cap told them was the entrance to the King’s palace.

Clusters of white pillars rose in stately grandeur, surrounded with carved wreaths of leaves and flowers, looking as if formed of frozen snow in the blue waters; forests of ferns hung their delicate stone fronds in the shadowy depths; quaint shaped mushrooms and coral-like bushes grew here and there ’mid heavily fringed leaves of many a strange shape.

“Oh! may we go down there?” asked Hal.

“No,” replied Red Cap, “it would be death to mortals to go there; even fairies cannot enter; but they are allowed to bathe in the pools, or to dance with the gnomes on moonlight nights, when our King and Queen hold their court. Only the gnomes can enter the palace halls below the pool, and many strange sights and sounds are there, and it is hard work there for the gnomes, I can tell you. See,” went on Red Cap, “the King and Queen are away just now, and the gnomes are busy cleaning out the palace, and soon they will make the big fountain play, and fill the terrace baths afresh.”

“Where have the King and Queen gone?” asked Hal, “and shan’t we see them?”

“I think not to-night,” said Red Cap, “for they have gone to their summer palace over there,” and he pointed to the other side of the lake, where the children saw another terraced realm even more beautiful than the one they were on, being of a pale pink colour, like the tender flush of a warm sunset upon beds of snow, and over all the falling waters danced and gleamed.

“Are there as beautiful bathing places over there too?” asked Hal.

“Yes,” said Red Cap, “and there is a large bath with soft downy sides and floor in which mortals sometimes bathe. But they are seldom allowed to see into the depths of the huge cauldron at the top of this pink terrace, for, by the order of the King, soft clouds of steam cover it, which are rarely lifted. Some favoured ones who have looked into the boiling depths say the forests and beauteous flowery forms there are even more wonderful than those you see here at the entrance of the Winter Palace.”

“Oh! look!” cried Hal excitedly to Cis just as Red Cap ceased speaking; then, out of numberless small caves in the blue cauldron at their feet jumped hundreds of little black gnomes, having thick coats made out of sulphur cakes, and on their heads milky white helmets. Up from the blue waters they sprang, capering with wild delight round the edges of the cauldron and the numberless basins of the white terraces below, shouting, laughing, and then bursting ever and anon into wild chorus.

“’Tis done! ’tis done! our labour is o’er,
We’ve cleaned each hall, and polished each floor.
We’ve made the matches, and lighted the fires
The engines to start as our King desires;
List to the hammers that thump and bang,
To the piston’s thud and the anvil’s clang.
Hurrah! hurrah! for the rumble and rush,
The boiling pools that bubble and gush,
Then upwards burst, and the steam clouds rise
To join their brethren that float in the skies.
Now the fountains play o’er the palace halls,
And the rainbow-arch o’er the portal falls,
Hark to the din! and hark to the roar!
’Tis done, ’tis done; our labour is o’er.”

And the children and Red Cap saw the water in the big cauldron begin to bubble at the bottom, and then rise rapidly higher and higher.

“Run to the hill!” cried Red Cap.

Hal and Cis needed no second bidding, but ran down the terrace and then climbed up the hill-side as quickly as they could with their bare feet, and from the midst of the bushes watched the big geyser shoot up into the sky with a terrific roar.

Soon the cauldron overflowed in tossing wavelets that swept downwards from terrace to terrace, filling to overflowing the countless baths on the way, and forming one beautiful sparkling cascade—in many parts blue as the sky overhead—from the top to the lake below, which was itself blue as a summer sky.

The gnomes, perching on the bushes and flax clumps round, nodded their heads approvingly, and sang:—

“The cascade falls o’er each marble lip,
Where at night the fairies merrily trip,
As the rippling waters rise and fall,
We join their dance on a gleaming wall,
Or climbing high on the moon’s bright rays,
We sing till the sun on the terrace plays,
Then hide again in our holes and caves,
Where our tired feet the water laves,
And we watch poor mortals come and go,
They see not the fun we have below.
Oh! what tricks we play! They know not why
The geysers gush, and the steam-clouds fly:
As they hear us chuckle and laugh, ha! ha!
They say, ’tis the water’s song, tra la la!
Hurrah! for the fun in our hidden homes,
Hurrah! for the life of the merry gnomes!”

And down the funny little fellows jumped and rushed laughing into the delicately fringed caves beneath the marble baths.

“What jolly little boys they are,” said Hal, “and what a good time they seem to be having!”

“Yes,” replied Red Cap, “they all _seem_ happy; but I am sorry to say there are a lot of discontented ones below, and I should not wonder if they strike one day; and if so, the passages will get clogged, and there will be a grand blow up, and I don’t know what will happen to our King and Queen and their beautiful fairy realms,”[19] and Red Cap heaved a deep sigh. “But we must go now,” added he.

The children ran down to where they had left their shoes and stockings, and putting them on, followed their guide to the creek.

There in the reeds, close to the bank, they found a canoe; it had pointed ends, and was hollowed out of a large tree trunk, and the bottom was covered with the small leafy twigs of the manuka.

“Get in, children,” said Red Cap.

“There are no seats,” said little Cis.

“Never mind,” answered Red Cap; “sit quite still on the bottom, and hold tightly to the sides.”

So Hal helped Cis in carefully, for it seemed as if very little would upset the canoe, and Red Cap, taking up a paddle, pushed out into the stream.

Then, how quickly they floated along on the rapidly running water; how delightful was the swift motion without any effort, making the children feel giddy as some swift eddy hurried them round the turns of the stream. On, on past the reedy banks, over deep pools and weedy shallows, faster and faster, Red Cap steering here and there with a touch of the paddle.

At last they came to the end of the rapids, and Red Cap steered the canoe to a little curve in the banks, and Cis and Hal jumped out.

“It was splendid,” cried Hal, “to come all that way so quickly, without any trouble, wasn’t it, Cis?”

“Yes,” replied Cis, hesitating a little; “but it rather took my breath away, and I was afraid we might be upset.”

“Oh! it was safe enough,” said Hal with an air of superior wisdom, “as long as you sat still; but I suppose it is difficult for girls to do that. Where now, Mr. Red Cap?” he added.

“I must leave you now, children; but here is Santa Claus waiting for you.”

And there indeed they saw their old friend sitting on a bank.

The children rushed to him, for they were delighted to see him again; then, turning, they bid Red Cap good-bye, and thanked him heartily for all his kindness to them, Hal adding, “I shall tell other children of the wonderful things you have shown us, Mr. Red Cap, that I shall, for I had often read of fairy-land, but I had never been to it before, and I think it is a jolly place.”

And with another good-bye, Red Cap vanished from their sight.

“So you have enjoyed yourselves, children? I am glad of that,” said Santa Claus. “And now, is there anything more you would like to see before you go home?”

“Yes,” cried Hal, “I _should_ like to see some real snow, the snow mother tells us of. Can we, please?”

Cis added her entreaty to Hal’s, and Santa Claus said he would take them where they could see some.

The morning had come, but the sun only now and again shone through the gray clouds that floated low.

“Come,” said Santa Claus; and taking a hand of each, he led them up to where a large, soft cloud rested on the hill-side, and he bade the children sit down with him on it.

Up, up floated the billowy mass into the sky, and glided away to the south. How smoothly they went along, wafted by the morning breezes! and Cis and Hal, seated on their soft cushions, gazed dreamily down on the country that sped away so quickly beneath them.

“How small the big mountains look!” cried Hal; “and the towns and villages look like toy ones.”

And then they passed over big streams, and a wide strait, that looked like a silver streak in the far depths. Away, away they floated; the sky was now clearer, and off the hills, and out of the valleys the mists were rolling, their silvery edges gleaming in the fitful sunlight.

“Look! we are going over some big ponds now,” said little Cis.

“Ponds!” exclaimed Santa Claus, “those are large lakes, see how they spread out like sheets of silver water!”

The cloud was by this time passing over one of the largest lakes, and very beautiful looked the soft shining waters surrounded by mountains, on the tops of which the clouds still rested. Then the cloud floated to the far end of the lake, and glided down a narrow valley in which the milky blue waters of a glacier-stream rushed and roared, though no sound reached the children, who could only see its fighting wavelets.

On they went, watching the clouds roll from the tree-clad depths and rocky heights, till at last they uttered cries of joy and wonder.

There, in front of them, the mighty snow-crowned hills pierced the grey clouds, catching the rosy rays of the now rapidly-rising sun. Vast ice-fields stretched far and wide, their rifts blue as the breaks in the sky above, their jagged peaks gleaming with a thousand diamond lights; and how soft and inviting looked the beds of snow in the hollows!

“The snow! The snow at last!” cried Hal and Cis, as they saw the hills and their gleaming sides and peaks; “oh! do let us get down, Mr. Santa Claus.”

“Wait,” he replied; and the cloud glided close to a gorge in one of the mountains, where a mighty foaming torrent[20] rushed down the rocky steeps to the valley beneath, the silver streaks thousands of feet overhead showing where the waters ran out from the glacier fields.

When the cloud stopped, the children jumped off and rushed to the edge of the waterfall, and, holding on to the trees at the side, were about to stoop down for a drink, when Santa Claus cried out, “Do not try to drink there, children, you will be swept away by the rushing waters. Come with me, and I will show you where you can get a draught of clear still water.”

Hal and Cis turned reluctantly, and Santa Claus took them where, in a dry water-course, amid big boulders, they saw clusters of the pure white flowers of the mountain-lily,[21] and their guide, pointing to these, said, “See there, if you are thirsty.”

“The flowers are very beautiful, Mr. Santa Claus,” said Cis, “but it is _water_ we want, and I am _so_ thirsty.”

“Look again,” replied Santa Claus.

There, below the flowers, were large cup-shaped leaves full of clear cold water; Cis and Hal darted forward to gather them and drink, when the leaves seemed to be shaken as if with the wind, but there was not wind enough for that, and, stooping down, they saw two little fat dwarfs holding the stems and shaking with laughter.

What ugly little fellows they were! Hal thought at first they were green frogs, for they were dressed in tight-fitting green coats, their big mouths reached from ear to ear, and their hands and feet were webbed.

“Hulloa!” cried Hal, “who are you?”

Instead of answering, they only laughed and choked, and choked and laughed.

“You seem to have got bad colds,” said little Cis.

“Perhaps, when you have done, you will tell us what you are laughing at?” continued Hal, in aggrieved tones.

Still they laughed and choked.

“I wish I were at home; my mother would give you some ipecacuanha wine, for I think you have got the croup,” said little Cis, in a troubled voice.

At this the dwarfs opened their mouths wider than before, and, at last, in low croaking voices began a duet:—

“My name it is Gup!”
“My name it is Joke!”
“We’ve got such bad colds (together)
We can only croak.

“We are both so fat, (together)
And we can’t tell why,
Unless it’s because
We live near the sky.”

“So close to the clouds
There’s no need to climb,”
Said Joke, “so all day
I sit here and rhyme.

“I feed upon flies,
And grumble and grunt,
Or for nice fat snails
Al night-time I hunt.”

“Be quiet,” cried Gup.
“That I won’t,” said Joke;
“Your voice is just like
A pig’s in a poke!”

“And little care I
If it is,” said Gup;
“I’m tired to death
Of holding this cup.”

“I like to be fat,
I hate to drink dew,
It’s a weak cold draught
That nourishes few.

“Great poets, they say,
Must live near the skies!”
“That’s me!” cried out Joke;
“I’m ever so wise!

“I know no grammar,
I read no books,
I have but studied
Dame Nature’s looks.

“A poet to gain
The top of the tree,
Has to use long words,
And drone like a bee.”

So we both make rhymes,
And chuckle and grin
At the people who listen,
And cry, “What a sin

“‘These two clever boys
Should not be extolled!’”
“Stop! stop!” cried out Joke,
“Where has the grub rolled?”

“What are you looking for?” asked the children.

“We are looking for our dinner,” replied the dwarfs, who, during the latter part of their singing, had been hunting under the leaves and down the slippery slope for a big fat grub which they had carefully stowed away for a meal, but which had disappeared.

“I’d rolled him all up
just under this cup!”
With a grunt cried out Gup.
“Yes! grunt and croak,
You pig in a poke;
You’re to blame,” cried Joke.
“I’ve told you full oft
Not to gaze up aloft—
That grub was _so_ soft!
He was such a prize!
A sight for sore eyes
When made into pies!”
And Joke heaved big sighs.

“Oh, dear! oh, dear!” said little Cis, “pray don’t quarrel over a grub.”

“Quarrel, indeed!” cried a voice out of the bushes; “they’re always quarrelling!”

It was a plump Maori hen who thus spoke, and she added, “If they’d leave off making rhymes, and attend to the business of every-day life, it would be far better. While they sat looking up at the skies, the grub rolled down, and I caught him and ate him, for it was a pity he should be wasted. In fact,” added the hen, with a satisfied nod, “as a rule, they find the grubs, and I eat them!”

At this, the dwarfs got so puffed out with anger, that the children were afraid they would burst, they rolled their eyes round and round, in search of something to throw at the Maori hen, but she ran away into the bushes beyond their reach.

“I should be glad if you’d give us a drink out of those green cups of yours,” said Hal; “and couldn’t you make some better poetry? if so, we’d like to hear it very much.”

The dwarfs then handed the children each a mountain-lily leaf full of cool dew, saying:—

“To you we hold the fairy cup,
And bid you drink of sparkling dew,
The stars have gone, the sun is up,
Soon must we hide from mortal view.
But ere we say good-bye, we bid
Ye upward, ever upward go;
Look to the Star that shines above,
Though oft you cull the flowers below.
’Tis Christmas morn, the Bell-bird’s chimes
Rise from the distant woods; o’er hills
Where rabbits skip, there softly rings
The music of a thousand rills.
A merry Christmas! then we sing;
A merry time for one and all!
Let not the poor pass by your gates,
Let from your hands the good gifts fall.
We merry dwarfs have but one gift,
To thirsty souls we hold it up,
And bid them drink refreshing dew
From out our cool green fairy cup.
But ere we say good-bye we bid
Ye upwards, ever upwards go;
Look to the Star that shines above,
E’en though you cull the flowers below.”

“I wonder if they mean our Star of Love,” said little Cis.

“Perhaps so,” said Hal, “though I don’t see it anywhere just now.”

Hal stooped down to where the little dwarfs were hiding themselves under the leaves, but somehow they and the big stalks seemed to get all mixed up, and he then could see nothing but the stalks, and began to think he must have dreamt all the rest.

Just then a Maori hen, with an inquisitive air, came out of the fern, and Hal, seeing it, cried out,—

“By-the-bye, old thief, where are those buttons of mine you stole?”

“I don’t know,” replied the hen. Indignant mutterings were uttered by some other hens gathering round:—

“_We_ never stole any buttons, it must have been some country cousin of ours; we never think of stealing anything,” protested the crowd indignantly.

“Well, you see,” replied Hal, “all your family have got a bad name; but there may be some honest ones amongst you.”

But the offended hens did not wait to hear more, and scuttled off into the bushes.

The children, seeing that Santa Claus was beckoning to them to go on, tried to get up the slope quickly; but how slippery the stretches of snow-grass were! they often stumbled, and had to hold on tightly to the silvery tufts to keep from falling backwards into the awful depths. Many a time did Hal help little Cis, for he still had the wand in his hand, and used it as a stick to lean upon.

“We shall soon get to the snow now,” said Santa Claus, waiting for the children, and pointing above them, where the eternal peaks were shining.

“What is that?” cried Hal, as he heard a loud thundering, as of a huge mass falling from some great height, waking the echoes far and near.

“You will know soon,” answered Santa Claus; and helping the children up the last steep ledges, they came in sight of the vast fields of snow and ice.

Proceeding in single file along the narrow path under his guidance, he at length placed them on a spot whence they could safely watch the avalanches thundering from the heights, down the rugged mountain side to the valley below, and how wonderful it was to see the huge masses of ice falling, sliding, dashing from ledge to ledge! Then from the clear sky above them they heard a voice calling, “Ke-a, ke-a. Come up, come up.”

“What is that?” asked little Cis, who had not spoken, but, sitting close to Hal, had been watching the wonderful scene.

“I do not know,” said Hal, “but it looks like a big mountain parrot that I’ve seen pictures of in our new book on New Zealand birds.”

“Is that what it is, Mr. Santa Claus?”

“Yes, Hal, and it is a cruel bird,[22] for it will fasten its claws into the back of any sheep that has wandered away from its companions or is floundering in the snow, and then, digging its sharp beak through the flesh, it feeds upon the fat part it likes best. The poor sheep, driven frantic by the pain, rushes on and on, till it sinks down exhausted to die; and then the Kea, having got the dainty bit it wanted, leaves its prey, and goes off to seek a fresh victim.”

“How cruel!” said little Cis, her eyes filling with tears.

“But come, children,” said Santa Claus, “I must take you near the snow,” and he led them to where the snow lay white and pure.

The children rushed to fill their hands with it, and shouted for joy.

“How cold it is!” cried Hal.

“How beautifully white and soft!” said little Cis.

And the children began to pelt each other, their merry laughter ringing on the clear air.

“Let’s have a shy at Santa Claus,” whispered Hal to his sister; and, making a big snow-ball, their eyes sparkling with fun, they threw it suddenly at their guide, who was sitting on a rock near by.

But how astonished they were, when the snow-ball hit him, to see it gradually spread out and cover him.

“Good-bye, children! Good-bye! good-bye!” said Santa Claus in a low muffled voice; and then, all that was left of their kind guide was a heap of snow.

“Oh! what have we done!” cried Cis, as she looked round and round for Santa Claus.

She thought the heap of snow was something like him in shape, but then it was _only_ a heap of snow, and poor Cis sat down and cried.

Hal tried to look brave, but felt inclined to cry too, when he remembered how far they were from home.

“How shall we get down the mountain? How shall we get back to mother?” moaned Cis, and the tears ran down her cheeks afresh.

Then from out the snow-heap sprang hundreds of little long-legged sprites, with high pointed ice-caps on their heads, and wearing coats of sparkling snow, the icicle-fringe of which jingled merrily.

What round, rosy faces they had! What twinkling blue eyes! In their hands they carried frost lances or little crystal spades, which they flourished in the air as they sprang up from the snow, making flashes of light in the sun.

“Who are you?” cried Hal.

“Are you the children of Santa Claus?” asked little Cis, “and if so, can you tell us where he has gone, please?”

“We are his servants,” shouted they, “and he has sent us to help you; for he has started on his journey to the Old World, where the children will soon be looking for him.”

“Oh! is that where he has gone!” said little Cis with a relieved air, glad to find they had not killed him; “and will you help us to go home? because I think it must be Christmas morning, and mother will be expecting us;” and little Cis thought she could hear the Bell-bird’s chimes, as she had heard it many a time in the early morning.

“Yes, we will help you,” answered the sprites.

Just then they heard the bird circling over their heads, again crying, “Ke-a! Ke-a! Come up! come up!” and Hal, helping little Cis, and planting his stick firmly, step by step, in the snow, followed the sprites, who tripped lightly on, looking like points of dancing light.

At last, after hard climbing, they reached the ice-clad side of the highest peak. How beautiful the prospect in the bright sunlight! The clouds all gone; nothing but the clear blue sky above and around. All was still, save when the avalanches thundered down from the heights. The children stood and watched the huge masses of ice as they slid down, now here, now there from the shining peaks, to fall like powdered snow into the foaming glacier stream in the dim depths below.

Meanwhile the little sprites were hard at work digging, cutting, shaping a huge block of ice.

“What are you making?” asked Hal. “Can we help?”

“Yes, if you like,” said the sprites, and they gave him and Cis two little spades. The children were soon quite hot, working as the sprites bade them, loosening and shaping the huge block of ice; while every now and then they would all stop, and pelt each other with the powdered ice, and the sprites sang:—

“Pelt us, pelt us, we don’t care,
We love the snow so crisp and fair;
We will shape and we will dig,
Till a chariot white and big
We have cut, for those who’d fain
Hasten to their home again.
Slide and slip, and slip and slide,
Thunderous roll, and mighty crash!
In the chariot come and ride,
Down into the depths to dash.
Mystic trip for those who roam;
One wild rush: Hurrah for home!”

Tempting indeed looked the chariot; bright and sparkling were its wheels of ice, and some of the sprites had decked it with starry edelweiss gathered on the slopes below, and with handfuls of the red snow-lichen.

“Let’s get in, Cis!” cried Hal.

“Is it quite safe?” asked Cis of the sprites.

“Quite, quite,” answered they; “Santa Claus told us to make it for you.”

Taking hold of little Cis, the foremost sprite helped her to get in, and Hal jumped quickly in by her side.

Throwing down their spades, the laughing sprites rushed to the chariot wheels, ready to push them round, whilst others pelted the children with snow-lichen, shouting at the top of their shrill voices:—

“Slide and slip, and slip and slide,
Thunderous roll and mighty crash!
In the chariot those who ride,
Down into the depths shall dash.
Mystic trip for those who roam;
One wild rush: Hurrah for home!”

Then the wheels began to turn, and Hal threw his arm round Cis, who was holding on to him, and looking with a little white face into the depths below.

But the wheels turned faster and faster, as the chariot dashed down the glassy slope. Hal looked at the sky above, where the Kea was still crying, “Come up! come up!” and he thought he saw the Star of Love shining faint and far; and then—— Hal remembered no more; and, with the words of the sprites ringing in his ears,—

“Slide and slip, and slip and slide,”

he—awoke,—to find he had tumbled out of bed, and that it was Christmas morn indeed. And there was little Cis, sitting up in her bed, and there were the stockings with their bulging sides; and Hal rubbed his eyes and wondered if he were awake or dreaming. But he and Cis hastened to dive into their stockings, to see what Santa Claus had put into them, and, what treasures they found!

For Cis there was a big doll, dressed like an angel, and fairy-like small ones, and beautiful furniture for her doll’s house, and a book with pictures of all kinds of birds and insects.

And in Hal’s, what treasures for his collection! Rare birds’ eggs in little glass-covered boxes, precious bits of many-coloured ores; and from the Terraces, about which his mother had often told him, were specimens of white encrusted sticks and delicate ferns. How he longed to put them in his cabinet with his other treasures!

But when Hal talked to Cis about Santa Claus and their night’s travels, she laughed and said,—

“You must have been dreaming, Hal, or perhaps the treasures in the stockings whispered it all in your ear,” which Hal indignantly denied.

“For I know it was real,” he said.

But the Bell-birds were singing their Christmas chime in the bush, and the morning sun was gilding the tree-ferns and the waves, and their mother’s voice was calling, “A happy Christmas, children! a happy Christmas!”

And whose was that other voice that called out the words too?

“Father! father!” cried the little ones eagerly, tearfully, as they rushed into the outstretched arms of their mother and _father_ too!

Yes, it was a happy Christmas morn, indeed, for the sea had brought its _living_ to their home. And as the children sat that evening in the little low room, their father told them of the shipwreck, of his life on an island with one other, carried like himself to its shores, and of their joy when a passing vessel sighted them and brought them home at last.

When the Southern Cross again shone down from the sky on the father and mother and happy children, Hal told them his tale of all he had seen the night before.

Although little Cis declared it was not so, Hal would never believe but that Cis and he had been with Santa Claus to see all the wonders of the Southern Cross Fairy-land.

FINIS.

NOTES.

[1] Bell-bird. Korimako. (_Anthornis melanura._)—A honey eater, the size of a sparrow; plumage dark green. It inhabits the outskirts of the forest. At daybreak the Bell-birds collect together in a favourite tree, especially on the Pohutukawa, or Christmas-tree, so called because it is in blossom at Christmas time, every little branch being then decorated with a tuft of crimson flowers, the cups of which are full of honey. One bird acts as conductor, making a snap with his bill, which is the signal to the others to begin the music, when at once a beautiful sound, like distant chimes, is heard; all the birds listen to the conductor, and stop or begin at his command. During the daytime they do not sing in chorus, but before retiring to rest they again gather together and with sweet music show their joy in life.—A. REISCHEK, F.L.S.

[2] The Cabbage-tree (_Cordyline australis_) is a characteristic feature in New Zealand landscapes. It receives its name from the arrangement of its leaves in tufts or heads at the ends of the branches. The tree may reach forty feet in height, and the tufts of stiff and sword-shaped leaves at the ends of the not very numerous branches gives it a peculiarly picturesque appearance. It is a member of the Lily order, and bears in the spring, feathery masses of small, white and sweet-scented flowers.—A. P. W. THOMAS, M.A., F.L.S., F.G.S.

[3] Kiwi. (_Apteryx mantelli._)—A bird about the size of a common fowl, with a long bill; it cannot fly, as the wings are extremely small and hidden amongst the plumage, being only 2½ inches long. The plumage of the Northern Kiwi is brown, and that of the South Island grey, the feathers are very much like hair, and when walking it steadies itself with its long bill. In summer it inhabits dense and secluded gullies, and in winter the spurs of the forest-covered hills. During the day the Kiwis sleep in burrows, under roots, or in hollow trees. As soon as the sun sets the shrill call of the male, and the croaking answer of the female, is heard, and it is amusing to see these creatures on a moonlight night, coming into the open spaces, and challenging any of their rivals who may dare to intrude into their favourite haunts. The challenge being answered, each bird makes a grunt of defiance, then the two rush together, and the fight begins. They strike forward with their strong legs at each other, and often roll over and over from the hard blows given. They are the most unsociable of all the New Zealand birds.—A. R.

[4] Parson-bird. Tui. (_Prosthemadera novæ Zealandiæ._)—A honey bird, the size of a blackbird; plumage black, with steel-blue and green shimmer, and two white tufts of soft curly feathers under its throat, suggestive of white bands, hence the name, Parson-bird. It imitates nearly every bird, and talks to perfection when in captivity and if taught. It alters its note according to the four seasons. In September, when the Kowhai is covered with bright yellow flowers, it is a remarkable sight to see the Tuis climbing among the blossoms, and sucking the honey from them, their dark plumage forming a beautiful contrast to the mass of brilliant golden flowers.—A. R.

[5] Pied Fantail. Piwakawaka (_Rhipidura flabellifera._)—A small fly-catcher; plumage greyish brown. While busily engaged catching mosquitos or sand flies, these birds steer with their fan-shaped tails, making fantastic evolutions in the air. When a fantail has spied out with its big black eyes the hiding place of the owl, in the daytime it will call its mates together and show them the spot where their enemy dwells, and then all the birds dart at the owl, and fly round and round, annoying it in every possible manner until they chase it away.—A. R.

[6] The little Brown Owl, or Morepork. Ruru. (_Athene novæ Zealandiæ._)—The size and plumage is the same as that of the European Stone Owl. As soon as darkness covers the land, the Moreporks appear silently swooping through the air, or darting suddenly after insects. Woe to any small bird which happens to chirp in its dreams, or to any rat which is taking a walk abroad, they will be sure to be detected by the bright yellow eyes of these nocturnal wanderers. On one occasion I saw one of these owls dart down on a large rat, fly with it high into the air, then let it drop, and, again darting down upon it, it repeated the operation till the rat was dead. The bird then proceeded most systematically to skin its prey, and, after feasting on the flesh, flew to the nearest tree, where it gave a few contented calls of “Morepork,” and then sat like an image, with its piercing eyes gazing on the ground in search of other prey.—A. R.

[7] North Island Crow. Kokako. (_Glaucopis wilsoni._)—A bird about the size of a jay; plumage of a slaty-grey. In the North Island it has blue wattles, in the South, orange with blue. This bird inhabits the secluded slopes of mountains, hopping swiftly through the forest, or hiding itself and peering through the boughs. Its note is melodious, and similar to that of a flute, and in the pairing season the male dances up and down on a branch, with his tail and wings out-spread, making at the same time a gurgling noise to attract the female bird’s attention, who sits near by, looking on in quiet admiration.—A. R.

[8] The Tuatara (_Splenodon punebatum_) is one of the peculiar animals of New Zealand. It is a lizard-like animal, rather less than two feet in length. It was formerly found on the mainland, but is now confined to a few of the outlying islands which are seldom visited. It has no near relative amongst existing lizards, and its nearest allies are certain fossil saurians of a remote geological period (_Lianic_). A. P. W. T.

[9] VEGETABLE CATERPILLAR.

A caterpillar found in the New Zealand forest, which, when it buries itself in the ground previous to its change into the perfect winged form, is attacked by a kind of fungus.

The fungus spreads through the substance of the caterpillar, upon which it lives; it then sends up a stem from the neck of its victim, and this stem appears above ground, growing to the length of some eight or ten inches. From its slightly thickened end, spores are shed.

The caterpillar becomes hard and dry, and its skin being filled with the wood-like substance of the fungus, its natural shape is preserved.—A. P. W. T.

[10] Grey Robin. Toutouwai. (_Petrœca longipes._)—A bird very much like the Robin Red-breast. The plumage is grey, with a yellowish-white breast. Robins are very tame birds, and can easily be made pets; they will often come into a tent. When I was camping in the forest, a pair came into my hut, ate off my plate, drank and bathed in my tin mug, sat on my dog’s back, and, when I did not get up by daybreak, actually pulled my beard and sat on my blanket. They often followed me on my expeditions for miles, and were so jealous that they would not let any other robins come near my camp.—A. R.

Tomtit, or Black Robin. (_Petrœca macrocephala._)—A bird of the size of a titmouse; plumage black, with yellow and white on the breast. On the Little Barrier Island, off the coast of the Auckland province, a pair came to my camp every morning to get a little porridge or a few crumbs. If I did not feed them at once they would come to the entrance of my tent, and whistling, ask for food. One morning, to my delight, they brought a family of three pretty little birds covered with yellow speckles. As soon as I gave them oatmeal they fed their young with it. They stayed with me till I broke up my camp.—A. R.

[11] Parrakeet. Kakariki. (_Platycercus novæ Zealandiæ._)—A small green parrot, red on the top of the head. The parakeets climb about in large flocks on the tops of the trees, feeding on seeds and berries. They are most amiable towards each other, chattering the whole day, feeding and kissing.—A. R.

[12] Maori Hen. Weka. (_Ocydromus earli._)—A bird rather smaller than a common hen; plumage brown. It is the most inquisitive, cunning, and mischievous of all the New Zealand birds. During the day it hides in burrows or in thick scrub, from which, however, it emerges as soon as it hears any unusual noise; it then hides behind a log, stone, or tree-root, whence it watches all proceedings, calling to its mate with a booming noise. Any small, bright article, such as a knife, watch, or bunch of keys laid aside, the Maori hen will at once pick up and carry off with delight to its hiding place. When near a farm-house, this bird, as soon as it hears a domestic hen cackle, will watch its opportunity to run to the place and carry off the egg she has laid, to eat it at leisure. In the forest the Maori hens watch the birds building their nests in order to steal their eggs. If a young bird or a rat is not sufficiently on the alert, it will be seized at once and devoured, or should a lizard or a grub cross their path, or a fish come too near the shore, they seldom escape the eye of these vigilant birds. When chased by a dog the Maori hen will run into its hole and slip out by another opening, and, screened perhaps by a bush or fern, will watch the dog digging for it.—A. R.

[13] White Heron. Kotuku. (_Ardea alba._)—There is a Maori saying, that the Kotuku, or White Heron, is like a great chief, seen only once in a lifetime. These birds inhabit the rivers on the west coast of the South Island, proudly stepping up and down the shore, or standing knee deep in the water, with neck drawn in and head bent downwards to be ready to make a dart should any fish venture too near. In November the White Herons leave the rivers and congregate at one of the old breeding-places on the shores of secluded inland lakes, where they sit about on the crowns of tree-ferns or branches of trees near their nests; if any enemy approaches, the birds begin in chorus a strange croaking noise. It is a beautiful sight to see the long-legged, snow-white creatures sitting amongst the green foliage, the whole picture clearly reflected in the dark still water.—A. R.

[14] Wairakei Valley.—K. C.

[15] The Eagle’s Nest Geyser.—K. C.

[16] The hot-springs and geysers of New Zealand are chiefly found over a broad belt of country stretching from the great volcanic mountains near the centre of the North Island, in a north-easterly direction to the Bay of Plenty. Hot-springs occur in tens of thousands over this area, showing every variety; the water of some is only pleasantly warm, so that they serve as natural baths, others are at a boiling temperature; the geysers are boiling springs which act intermittently, now throwing up a column of water fountain-like into the air, now sinking to rest for a longer or shorter time.—A. P. W. T.

[17] Swamp Hen. Pukeko. (_Porphyrio melanotus._)—About the size of a fowl: plumage of a black and blue colour, with a red bill and long red legs. These birds inhabit swamps, or the shallow shores of lakes, where they stalk about with tails erect, their white undercoverts showing out conspicuously from the dark plumage. Where they are often disturbed, a few are always on the watch, whilst others feed, and on the approach of danger the watchers give a note of alarm and all disappear in the swamp. When plentiful near a cultivation they are destructive to crops of grain, as they eat the young shoots.—A. R.

[18] THE TERRACES.

The White and Pink Terraces were situated on the shores of Lake Rotomahana, a warm lake, as its name indicates (from Roto, lake, and mahana, warm). The lake was surrounded by hills, and it was on the sides of these hills, sloping down to the lake, that the Terraces had been formed. At the top of the White Terrace was a hollow in the hill-side, and in the centre of this was a great geyser. The water rising in the geyser overflowed its basin, and streaming down the sloping ground into the lake, cooled, and deposited a white incrustation of silica. On the opposite side of the lake was a similar terrace, known as the Pink Terrace, which, owing to the presence of a little iron oxide, was of a delicate shade of pink. Thus, in the course of unknown ages had been built up the wonderful Terraces of Rotomahana, structures which for purity of colour and beauty of sculpturing were unrivalled in the world. The White Terrace covered an area of about four acres, the Pink Terrace was a little smaller.