she seized the nearest to her, held it by the feet, and shook it till it flapped
its wings. “Kiss it,” cried she, flapping it in Gerda’s face. “There sit the
wood-pigeons,” continued she, pointing to a number of laths and a cage
which had been fixed into the walls, near one of the openings. “Both rascals
would fly away directly, if they were not closely locked up. And here is my
old sweetheart ‘Ba;’” and she dragged out a reindeer by the horn; he wore a
bright copper ring round his neck, and was tied up. “We are obliged to hold
him tight too, or else he would run away from us also. I tickle his neck
every evening with my sharp knife, which frightens him very much.” And
then the robber-girl drew a long knife from a chink in the wall, and let it
slide gently over the reindeer’s neck. The poor animal began to kick, and
the little robber-girl laughed, and pulled down Gerda into bed with her.
“Will you have that knife with you while you are asleep?” asked Gerda,
looking at it in great fright.
“I always sleep with the knife by me,” said the robber-girl. “No one
knows what may happen. But now tell me again all about little Kay, and
why you went out into the world.”
Then Gerda repeated her story over again, while the wood-pigeons in the
cage over her cooed, and the other pigeons slept. The little robber-girl put
one arm across Gerda’s neck, and held the knife in the other, and was soon
fast asleep and snoring. But Gerda could not close her eyes at all; she knew
not whether she was to live or die. The robbers sat round the fire, singing
and drinking, and the old woman stumbled about. It was a terrible sight for
a little girl to witness.
Then the wood-pigeons said, “Coo, coo; we have seen little Kay. A white
fowl carried his sledge, and he sat in the carriage of the Snow Queen, which
drove through the wood while we were lying in our nest. She blew upon us,
and all the young ones died excepting us two. Coo, coo.”
“What are you saying up there?” cried Gerda. “Where was the Snow
Queen going? Do you know anything about it?”
