The Wonderful Bed Part 11

Aha--Miss Jane Mackenzie!"

The children could hardly believe their ears. "Oh, Ruddy," whispered Ann in Rudolf's ear, "what kind of dreams do you suppose Aunt Jane will get?"

"Sh! Listen, he's going to tell us," answered Rudolf.

The Sandman was gravely consulting his list.

"M-hm--Cook-that-likes-living-in-the-Country! Step this way, ma'am, and don't take any more room than you can help. New Non-fadable Cheap but Elegant Parlor Curtains--One Able-bodied Intelligent Gardener, with a Generous Disposition--hurry the gentleman forward, boys, he's a curiosity! What's next? Aha! One niece, two nephews--three perfectly good children." Sandy paused, stared about him at the throng of jumping, pushing dreams--then added: "Don't see 'em."

"Why, yes you do!" Ann was pulling impatiently at the Sandman's sleeve--"Here you are." Then she turned to Rudolf and whispered excitedly: "Don't you see? We must make the Sandman believe we are Aunt Jane's Good Dreams, and then he'll send us back to her."

"I'd like a ride on that slide, all right!" returned Rudolf.

"But I doesn't want to go back to Aunt Jane yet," came the voice of Peter clearly from behind them. "I shan't go till I've seen the Bad Dreams."

"Nonsense!" Rudolf turned round on him angrily. "Of course you'll go.

You're the youngest, and you've _got_ to mind us." And then without paying any more attention to Peter, Rudolf thrust himself in front of the Sandman. "Here we are," he said. "We're all ready."

The Sandman looked the boy up and down, consulted his list again, smiled and shook his head very doubtfully.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm afraid you don't exactly answer. Just listen to this." And he read aloud: "Number one. Boy: polite and gentlemanly in manner--brown hair neatly smoothed and parted--Eton suit, clean white collar, boots well polished--Latin grammar under arm--"

He stopped. Rudolf, in his pajamas, with his ruffled locks, tin sword, and angry expression, did not answer very closely to this description. The Cook-who-liked-living-in-the-Country, the Gardener-with-the-Generous-Disposition, and several other Good Dreams burst out laughing. Only the False Hare kept a solemn expression, but Rudolf knew very well what _that_ meant.

The Sandman continued: "Number two. Little girl: modest and timid in her manners, not apt to address her elders until spoken to--hair braided neatly and tied with blue ribbon--white ap.r.o.n over dark dress--doing patchwork with a pleased expression. Has not forgotten thimble--"

Here Sandy was interrupted by the Cook and the Gardener, who declared that if he didn't stop they'd die a-laughin', that they would! The False Hare wiped away a tear, and none of the dreams seemed to consider the description correct. Sandy shook his head again, as he glanced at Ann in her nighty, her ruffled curls tumbling over her flushed face--Ann without patchwork, thimble, or pleased expression!

"Afraid you won't do, miss," said he, looking quite sorry for her.

"Let's see what's next. Number three"--he read--"Very small boy: clean blue sailor suit--white socks--looks sorry for--"

All turned to look at Peter, but Peter was not looking sorry for anything--Peter was not there! Ann gave a hasty look all round the glade, then burst into tears.

"Oh, Rudolf," she cried, "what shall we do? He's gone--he's slipped away to find those Bad Dreams all by himself--you know how Peter is, when he says he's going to do anything, he _will_ do it. Oh, oh, I _ought_ to have watched him!"

"Don't cry," said Rudolf hastily. "It's just as much my fault. You stay here and I'll go fetch him back. I have my sword, you know."

"No, no," sobbed Ann. "Don't leave me. It was my fault--I promised mother I would always look after Peter. We'll go together. The Sandman will tell us where the Bad Dreams live, won't you?" she added, turning to Sandy.

"There, there, of course I will," said the little man kindly. "I'd go along with you, if there wasn't such a press of business just now, but you can see for yourselves what a mess things would be in if I should leave. You must go right ahead, right into the thick of the woods.

Follow that path on the other side of the glade. You needn't be afraid you'll miss those Bad Ones--they'll be on the lookout for you, I'm afraid."

The children thanked Sandy for all his kindness, and turned to leave him. "One moment," he cried, and he ran ahead of them to draw aside the wall of p.r.i.c.kly bushes and show them the little path he had spoken of which wound from the Good Dreams' glade toward the heart of the wood.

"Keep right on," said Sandy, "and don't be afraid. Remember--they're a queer lot, those fellows, but they can't hurt you if you are careful.

Don't answer 'em back and don't ask 'em too many questions. One thing in particular--if they offer you anything to eat, don't taste a mouthful of it. If you do it'll be the worse for you!"

Rudolf and Ann thought of Peter and his pa.s.sion for "refreshments", and they started hastily forward.

"Just _one_ thing more," called Sandy after them. "About that consignment of your aunt's, you know! I'll hold that over till you get back, and we'll see what can be done. Maybe we can fit you in yet, somehow. Now good-by, and good luck to you!"

"Good-by, and thank you!" Rudolf and Ann called back to him, and then they plunged into the path. The wall of bushes sprang back again behind them, and cut them off from the shelter of the Good Dreams'

glade. As the path was very narrow, Rudolf walked first, sword drawn, and Ann trotted behind him, trying not to think of what queer things might be waiting behind the trees to jump out at them, trying only to think of her naughty Peter, and how glad she would be to see him again.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XII

ENTER THE KNIGHT-MARE

At first it was easy enough for the children to follow the narrow winding path which the Sandman had pointed out, but soon they came to a part of the wood where the underbrush grew thicker and their path lost itself in a network of other little paths spread out as if on purpose to confuse them. Rudolf and Ann hurried along as fast as they could go, but it was hard work to make their way through the tangled undergrowth where the twisted roots set traps for their feet--and caught them, too, sometimes--while overhead the tall trees met and mingled their branches. From these hung down great ma.s.ses of trailing vines and spreading creepers like long, lean, hairy arms stretched out to bar their way. Rudolf had to stop now and then to hack at these arms with his sword before he and Ann could pa.s.s through. Worst of all--the thick growth of trees made the wood so dark that they could not see more than a few feet ahead of them.

"Oh, Ruddy, I'm sure we're not on the right path any more," said Ann at last. "Peter is so little--he never, never could have pushed his way through here!"

"N-no," admitted Rudolf. "Perhaps he couldn't, but maybe he stuck to the right path, Ann, and if he did he's there by this time."

"But I don't want him to get there!" poor Ann cried. "That would be much worse for him than being lost. If he's just around the wood somewhere we can find him and bring him back and then coax Sandy to send us all home by the toboggan-slide to Aunt Jane, but if he's found the Bad Dreams or they've found him--Oh, Ruddy, how do we know what awful things they may be doing to him!"

"Don't be a goose, Ann," said Rudolf stoutly, though he was really beginning to feel worried himself. "You know they are only dreams if they _are_ bad. What can a dream do, anyway? They're not real."

"Oh, they're real enough," sighed little Ann. "Sometimes the things in dreams are real-er than real things. I'm 'fraid enough of real cows, but _they_ can't walk up-stairs like the dream cows can--and, oh, I remember the dream I dreamed about the Dentist-man, after I had my tooth pulled, the one father gave me the dollar for--and--"

"Bother!" said Rudolf. "I've had lots worse dreams than cows and dentists. P'licemen and Indian chiefs, and--oh, heaps of things, and I didn't really mind 'em, either, but then I'm braver than--"

"Sh!" interrupted Ann, stopping and catching at Rudolf's arm. "I hear something--something queer. Listen!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I hear something--something queer."]

Rudolf listened. "I don't hear anything," he said at last. "What was it like?"

"Oh, such a creepy, crawly sound, and--Oh, Ruddy--there is a face--see it? A horrid little face peeping out at us from behind that tree!"

Rudolf saw the face too, a winking, blinking, leering, little face much like the one that had grinned at Ann from the post of the big bed not so very long ago.

All at once as the children looked about them, they began to see faces everywhere, faces in the crotches of the trees, faces where the branches crossed high above their heads, faces even in the undergrowth about their feet. It reminded Rudolf of the puzzle pictures he and Ann were so fond of studying where you have to look and look before you can find the hidden people, but when once you have found them you wonder how you could have been so stupid as not to have spied them long before. He heard distinctly now the noises Ann had heard. It was as if the hidden places of the wood were full of small live things which were gathering together and coming toward the children from every direction, closing them in on every side. Then somebody laughed in a high cracked voice just behind them, one of Ann's curls was sharply pulled, and Rudolf's precious sword was plucked from his hand and tossed upon the ground. Still they could see no bodies to which the little faces could belong, and they began to feel very queer indeed.

Then came the laugh again, repeated a number of times and coming now from directly over their heads where the branches of a great beech tree swept almost to the ground. Rudolf and Ann looked up just in time to catch sight of the queer little creatures who were looking down at them from between the beech leaves. It was no wonder they had been so hard to see, for they were dressed in tight-fitting suits of fur exactly the color of the bark, and had small pointed fur hoods upon their heads which made them look very much like squirrels. Even now that the children had spied them out, it was impossible to examine them closely for they were never quiet, never in the same place more than an instant, but swung themselves restlessly from bough to bough, then to the ground and back again in two jumps, peeping, peering, racing each other along the branches, all the time without the slightest noise other than was made by their light feet among the leaves and the two laughs the children had heard.

Rudolf picked up his sword, and said in as bold a voice as he could manage--"Please, could any of you tell us the right path to--"

A burst of sharp squeals, shrill laughs, and jeering remarks interrupted his question. The whole company of queer creatures dropped to the ground at the same time, and instantly formed a circle about the children, snapping their little white teeth, and grinning and chattering like monkeys.

"Are you the Bad Dreams?" asked Rudolf. Then, as a burst of laughter contradicted this idea--"Who are you, then?"