and almost bare of foliage. Then there were no trees at all, only patches of moss and grasses, blown by cold winds and nibbled by occasional elk and reindeer. The stream disappeared abruptly into a crevice in the rocks, reappeared several hundred feet farther up, then disappeared again.
The airship flew through mountain peaks that rose incredibly above, and Jonathan could see the tiny shadow of the ship on the rocks and cliff faces, pursuing them. Patches of snow appeared here and there in among the rocks. The patches spread and grew until there was nothing about them but snow and the sharp pinnacles and broken humps of gray stone. They skimmed over the top of a great ice sheet that shone silver in the sunlight. The ice began to glow as the airship rose still farther, and as they slanted round a tremendous outcropping of rock and ice and into the sharp rays of the sun, prismatic glints of color shone from deep within the ice as if innumerable gemstones were caught and held in the clear depths of the glacier – diamonds and emeralds and sapphires and rubies that scattered a thousand deep rainbows through the ice.
When it seemed as if there could be no more mountains to rise above, they sailed round a sharp, sawtooth peak and into the shadows of still another tremendous precipice. It began to look as if there was an infinitude of successive mountains, each range higher than the last. But when the airship rose over the top of that last precipice, there, spread out before them for what seemed like – and might well have been – a thousand miles, were no end of distant snowy peaks and shadowy valleys. Whole empires could have grown up and fallen again within that expanse of mountains, completely unknown to the little village of Twombly Town or, for that matter, to any of the villages of the high valley. Mountain peaks had always seemed a mystery to Jonathan, who was one of those people who fancied that some marvel lay not only on the other side, but quite likely among the tops of the mountains themselves. Once he’d crested those mountains in the airship, however, it was the unfathomable valleys that seemed so disquietingly mysterious. Here were a thousand of them, ten thousand. Who could say what creatures roamed their slopes and what manners of men dwelled there? Any sort of marvelous thing might be the case.
Just as Jonathan sat imagining a few of those marvelous things he saw – or thought he saw – what must have been an immense bird silhouetted against the distant snow. He watched it wing its way up out of a valley, soar for a moment on vast wings, then disappear again into shadow. Jonathan at first supposed he imagined the thing, for it would have had to have been a hundred miles away, but the Professor-grabbed his arm and said in a voice that was almost a whisper, ‘Did you see it?’
‘Yes,’ Jonathan replied, also whispering for no reason he could imagine other than because of the mystery of it. ‘How big must it have been?’
‘As big as this ship,’ the Professor answered. ‘Bigger even.’
‘A dragon?’ Jonathan wondered aloud.
The Professor gave him a look that suggested dragons were unlikely outside fables and fairy tales. ‘It’s more likely,’ Professor Wurzle explained, ‘that it was some sort of gargantuan prehistoric bird. A tremendous pterodactyl quite possibly.’
Both of them watched, hoping the bird would reappear, but nothing else broke the snowy vastness of the barren landscape.
‘Look up there.’ The Professor pointed toward the sky. Jonathan peered through the glass of the porthole window at a sky covered with stars glowing like brilliants in the deep, purple-blue of the heavens. The sun stood out among them as if quite willing to share the sky with its fellows.
‘Strange, that.’ Jonathan wouldn’t have thought, all things considered, that there was much possibility of the stars putting in an appearance while the sun shone.
‘Altitude explains it,’ the Professor
The airship flew through mountain peaks that rose incredibly above, and Jonathan could see the tiny shadow of the ship on the rocks and cliff faces, pursuing them. Patches of snow appeared here and there in among the rocks. The patches spread and grew until there was nothing about them but snow and the sharp pinnacles and broken humps of gray stone. They skimmed over the top of a great ice sheet that shone silver in the sunlight. The ice began to glow as the airship rose still farther, and as they slanted round a tremendous outcropping of rock and ice and into the sharp rays of the sun, prismatic glints of color shone from deep within the ice as if innumerable gemstones were caught and held in the clear depths of the glacier – diamonds and emeralds and sapphires and rubies that scattered a thousand deep rainbows through the ice.
When it seemed as if there could be no more mountains to rise above, they sailed round a sharp, sawtooth peak and into the shadows of still another tremendous precipice. It began to look as if there was an infinitude of successive mountains, each range higher than the last. But when the airship rose over the top of that last precipice, there, spread out before them for what seemed like – and might well have been – a thousand miles, were no end of distant snowy peaks and shadowy valleys. Whole empires could have grown up and fallen again within that expanse of mountains, completely unknown to the little village of Twombly Town or, for that matter, to any of the villages of the high valley. Mountain peaks had always seemed a mystery to Jonathan, who was one of those people who fancied that some marvel lay not only on the other side, but quite likely among the tops of the mountains themselves. Once he’d crested those mountains in the airship, however, it was the unfathomable valleys that seemed so disquietingly mysterious. Here were a thousand of them, ten thousand. Who could say what creatures roamed their slopes and what manners of men dwelled there? Any sort of marvelous thing might be the case.
Just as Jonathan sat imagining a few of those marvelous things he saw – or thought he saw – what must have been an immense bird silhouetted against the distant snow. He watched it wing its way up out of a valley, soar for a moment on vast wings, then disappear again into shadow. Jonathan at first supposed he imagined the thing, for it would have had to have been a hundred miles away, but the Professor-grabbed his arm and said in a voice that was almost a whisper, ‘Did you see it?’
‘Yes,’ Jonathan replied, also whispering for no reason he could imagine other than because of the mystery of it. ‘How big must it have been?’
‘As big as this ship,’ the Professor answered. ‘Bigger even.’
‘A dragon?’ Jonathan wondered aloud.
The Professor gave him a look that suggested dragons were unlikely outside fables and fairy tales. ‘It’s more likely,’ Professor Wurzle explained, ‘that it was some sort of gargantuan prehistoric bird. A tremendous pterodactyl quite possibly.’
Both of them watched, hoping the bird would reappear, but nothing else broke the snowy vastness of the barren landscape.
‘Look up there.’ The Professor pointed toward the sky. Jonathan peered through the glass of the porthole window at a sky covered with stars glowing like brilliants in the deep, purple-blue of the heavens. The sun stood out among them as if quite willing to share the sky with its fellows.
‘Strange, that.’ Jonathan wouldn’t have thought, all things considered, that there was much possibility of the stars putting in an appearance while the sun shone.
‘Altitude explains it,’ the Professor
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