IXPETERKIN TAKES A FALL
NO sooner had Peterkin satisfied his hunger and wiped his mouth than the old farmer fussed and fidgeted to start on their journey. Peterkin couldn’t understand why he was in such a hurry—but then Peterkin had a full set of teeth, while the farmer had none. And it was in search of a new set that they were going.
So they sat themselves on the flying sea-shell and were off and away.
But it was strange what a creaking and groaning came from the faithful shell. True, it went up, up, as high as ever before; but it went so slowly and by such ricketyjumps and bounds, as if its wings were lamed. The old farmer was almost jounced completely off his seat ten times. His long gray beard was tousling over his eyes in the helter-skelter rush of the wind. He well-nigh died of fright.
Peterkin, too, was afraid. Not that he wasn’t accustomed, by now, to this skimming through the clouds. But something was wrong ... yes, something was certainly wrong. His sea-shell had never acted this way before. Oh, listen! It was groaning and grunting now, louder than ever. Peterkin thought he could even hear a sharp cracking of its pearly cup. Suppose that it should break!
He looked down, sick at heart! Through the cloud rifts he could see that they were passing over a great, white line of mountain tops. Like glistening needles they seemed, as he gazed down upon them. The sunlight glanced dazzlingly along their snowy sides. Peterkin shuddered and turned his eyes away.
“Oh, oh, look again!” chattered the toothless old farmer. “We are past the mountains now. We are well above a brand-new valley, where a rushing river tumbles and froths, and oh, look ... over there are the spires and roofs of a city. Gray and silver they are, all gleaming and tall. And we are flying straight toward them. Hurrah, now I shall get me a new set of teeth!”
But long ere they reached the city, the sea-shell began to crack and split, and to wabble from side to side. Once it dipped so far that both of its passengers were almost tossed off into the air. The farmer clung fast to Peterkin and Peterkin to the shell—and both of them gasped in horror.
“Oh, we are too heavy a load,” sobbed Peterkin. “I should never have taken you along with me.”
“It’s not my fault!” stormed the old fellow. “It’s you who are so heavy. You ate and ate until you weigh more than four fat men should weigh. ’Twas your appetite thatwill kill us both”—and he sucked his toothless gums in rage.
“Ungrateful man!” cried Peterkin. “I am risking my life to make you happy.”
“Yes,” retorted the other, “and I am losing mine because you were so greedy!”
Therewith they fell to in wrath and cuffed each other and tore and tussled, swaying to this side and that and jouncing up and down in mighty thwacks.
“Out with you—out of the shell!” screamed the old farmer. And with that he seized poor Peterkin under the arms, and—for all he was so heavy—hurled him out into the air and down, down, down....
The sea-shell, lightened of the heavier part of its load, shot up higher into the air. Then suddenly, with a noise like the crack o’ doom, it burst into many pearly pieces. The farmer shot down, too, as if from a gun. And down he came close behind Peterkin ... and landed, with a fearful splash, into a fountain in the center of the market place.
As for Peterkin himself, you never could guess where he landed.