“Don’t go too near the fire,” said the prince, “or your hands and face will
be frost-bitten.”
“Frost-bitten!” said the North Wind, with a loud laugh; “why frost is my
greatest delight. What sort of a little snip are you, and how did you find
your way to the cavern of the Winds?”
“He is my guest,” said the old woman, “and if you are not satisfied with
that explanation you can go into the sack. Do you understand me?”
That settled the matter. So the North Wind began to relate his adventures,
whence he came, and where he had been for a whole month. “I come from
the polar seas,” he said; “I have been on the Bear’s Island with the Russian
walrus-hunters. I sat and slept at the helm of their ship, as they sailed away
from North Cape. Sometimes when I woke, the storm-birds would fly about
my legs. They are curious birds; they give one flap with their wings, and
then on their outstretched pinions soar far away.”
“Don’t make such a long story of it,” said the mother of the winds; “what
sort of a place is Bear’s Island?”
“A very beautiful place, with a floor for dancing as smooth and flat as a
plate. Half-melted snow, partly covered with moss, sharp stones, and
skeletons of walruses and polar-bears, lie all about, their gigantic limbs in a
state of green decay. It would seem as if the sun never shone there. I blew
gently, to clear away the mist, and then I saw a little hut, which had been
built from the wood of a wreck, and was covered with the skins of the
walrus, the fleshy side outwards; it looked green and red, and on the roof sat
a growling bear. Then I went to the sea shore, to look after birds’ nests, and
saw the unfledged nestlings opening their mouths and screaming for food. I
blew into the thousand little throats, and quickly stopped their screaming.
Farther on were the walruses with pig’s heads, and teeth a yard long, rolling
about like great worms.”
“You relate your adventures very well, my son,” said the mother, “it
makes my mouth water to hear you.
