Comet in Moominland (16 page)

'Yes, I'll do that,' said the house-troll climbing on to his bicycle. 'Well, goodbye, and may the Protector-of-all-House-and-Moomintrolls watch over you!' And he peddled earnestly away.

'Did you ever see so much luggage!' said Snufkin. 'And the poor chap was quite exhausted. Oh, isn't it wonderful not to own anything!' And he threw his old green hat up gaily in the air.

'I don't know about that,' said Sniff, gazing lovingly at his little jewelled dagger. 'It's nice to have beautiful things that really belong to you.'

'Now we must get on,' said Moomintroll. 'They're waiting for us at home, and I'm sure that can't be much fun.'

On the way they met crowds of fleeing creatures; some walking, some driving, some riding, and some even taking their houses with them on wheelbarrows. They all kept glancing fearfully at the sky and hardly anyone had time to stop and talk.

'It's strange,' said Moomintroll, 'but it seems to me that we aren't as afraid as any of these people, although we're going to the most dangerous place of all, and they're leaving it.'

'That's because we are so extremely brave,' said Sniff.

'H'm,' said Moomintroll. 'I think,' he mused, 'it must be because we've sort of got to know the comet. We were the first ones to find out that it was coming. We've seen it grow from a tiny dot to a great sun... How lonely it must be up there, with everybody afraid of it!'

The Snork maiden put her paw into Moomintroll's. 'Anyway,' she said, 'if you're not afraid, I'm not either!'

Soon they stopped by the wayside to have lunch, and there sat a Hemulen with a stamp album on his lap.

'All this fuss and rush!' he was muttering to himself. 'Crowds of people everywhere, and not one of them can tell me just what it's all about.'

'Good morning,' said Moomintroll. 'I suppose you aren't by any chance a relation of the Hemulen we met in the Lonely Mountains? He collected butterflies.'

'That must have been my cousin on my father's side,' answered the Hemulen. 'He is very stupid. We don't even know each other now. I broke off our relationship.'

'Why was that?' asked Sniff.

'He had no interest in anything but his old butterflies,' said the Hemulen. 'The earth could crack under his feet and it wouldn't bother him.'

'That's exactly what's going to happen now,' said the Snork. 'To be precise, at 8.42 tomorrow evening.'

'What?' said the Hemulen. 'Well, as I said, there has

been a tremendous fuss going on here. I had been sorting my stamps for a whole week and all my perforations, watermarks and so on were in different piles, when what happens? Somebody goes off with the table I am working on. Somebody else snatches the chair from under me. Then the very house disappears. And here I sit with my stamps in a complete muddle, and nobody has bothered to tell me what it's all about.'

'Listen now, Hemul,' said Snufkin slowly and clearly. 'It's about a comet that is going to collide with the earth tomorrow.'

'Collide?' said the Hemulen. 'Has that anything to do with stamp-collecting?'

'No, it hasn't,' said Snufkin. 'It has to do with a comet - a wild star with a tail. And if it comes here there won't be much of your stamp-collection left.'

'Heaven protect me!' gasped the Hemulen, and with this somewhat illogical request he gathered up his dress (a hemulen always wears a dress - nobody knows why - perhaps they have never thought of trousers), and asked what he should do next.

'Come with us,' said the Snork maiden. 'We've found a cave where both you and your stamp-collection can hide.'

And that was how the Hemulen joined the party returning to Moomin Valley. Once they had to go back several miles to look for a rare stamp that had fluttered out of his album, and once he had a quarrel with the Snork (who insisted that it was a 'dispute' though anybody could
see
that it was a quarrel) about something that somebody had forgotten to do. But on the whole they got on quite well with the Hemulen.

They had left the country road long ago and reached a

great wood of silver poplars and oaks with a few plum trees dotted about, when Sniff stopped and listened.

'Can you hear anything?' he asked.

Very, very faintly they heard a whirring, buzzing sound. It came nearer and nearer until they were deafened by the roar. The Snork maiden held Moomintroll's paw very tight.

'Look!' screamed Sniff.

Suddenly the red sky was darkened by a cloud of flying creatures that first sank, and then dived straight into the wood.

'It's a swarm of grass-hoppers!' cried the Snork. They all hid behind a stone and looked cautiously out at the wild green bandits that swarmed in their millions amongst the branches.

'Have the grass-hoppers gone mad?' whispered the Snork maiden.

'We - will - eat!' chanted the nearest grass-hopper.

'We - are - eating!' sang another. 'We - are - eating!' chorused all the other grass-hoppers who were gnawing, tearing and biting at everything in sight.

'It makes me hungry to look at them,' said the Hemulen. 'This is even worse than the last fuss. I do hope they don't eat stamp-albums.'

'Can any of you see that grass-hopper musician who was drinking beer at the dance?' asked Snufkin.

'He was the tame, meadow sort,' answered the Snork. 'These are wild Egyptian grass-hoppers.'

It was quite fascinating to see how fast they ate. In a short while the poor trees were naked. Not a leaf was left - not even a blade of grass.

Moomintroll sighed. 'I have heard that grass-hoppers always ravage the country before any great catastrophe,' he said.

'What's a catastrophe?' asked Sniff.

'It's something as bad as it can possibly be,' said Moomintroll. 'Like earthquakes, and tidal waves, and volcanoes. And tornadoes. And plagues.'

'In other words - "fuss",' said the Hemulen. 'One never has any peace.'

'What was it like in Egypt?' squeaked Sniff to the nearest grass-hopper.

'Oh, short rations you know,' he sang. 'But look out, little friends, beware of the great wind!'

'We - have - eaten!' sang all the grass-hoppers, and with a burst of chirping and croaking the whole swarm rose from the bare skeleton of the wood.

'What dreadful creatures!' exclaimed Snufkin, and the little procession trudged dejectedly on through the silent desolation that the grass-hoppers had made.

'I'm thirsty!' wailed the Snork maiden. 'Aren't we nearly there yet? Snufkin, do play the Higgely-piggely song. It's just how I feel now.'

'The mouth-organ is broken,' protested Snufkin. 'There are only a couple of notes that will play at all.'

'Then let's have it with them,' said the Snork maiden, and Snufkin played:

Higg - -, pig - -,
Path - - wigg - -,
- - - four.
Almost - -
On little - -;
- - - door.

'I didn't think much of that,' said the Hemulen. And they plodded on, their feet more tired than ever.

Meanwhile far off in Egypt a tornado had been born, and now it was flying on black wings across the desert, whistling ominously as it went, whirling up sticks and straws, and growing blacker and stronger every minute. It began sweeping trees away and lifting the roofs from the houses in its path. Then it threw itself across the sea and, climbing over the mountains, came at last to the place where the Valley of the Moomins lay.

Sniff, who had long ears, heard it first. 'It must be another swarm of grass-hoppers,' he said.

They all raised their noses and listened.

'It's the storm this time,' said the Snork maiden. And she was right. It was the great storm the grass-hopper had warned them about.

The heralds of the tornado came howling through the bare tree trunks. They tore off Moomintroll's medal and blew it right into the top of a fir tree, they bowled Sniff over four times and tried to take Snufkin's hat away from him. The Hemulen clutched his stamp album, cursing and

muttering, and the whole lot of them were blown through the wood and out on to an open moor.

'This ought to be arranged a little better,' shouted the Snork. 'A fine wind like this and nothing to sail with!'

'Nothing to sail
in
either,' said Snufkin, 'which is more important.'

They crept down under the roots of a tree to discuss things.

'I made a glider when I was small,' said Moomintroll. 'It flew very well...'

'A balloon wouldn't be such a bad idea,' said the Snork maiden. 'I had a sausage one once. Yellow.'

Just then a baby tornado dived under the tree roots and took hold of the Hemulen's stamp album, whirling it high up in the air. With a howl of anguish he leapt to his feet and set off after his treasure. He staggered and fluttered, and the wind got under his wide skirt and carried him off over the heather. He flapped away like a great kite.

The Snork looked thoughtfully after him and said: 'I think I've got an idea. Follow me all of you.'

They found the Hemulen some distance away, sitting and moaning to himself quite overcome with despair.

'Hemul,' said the Snork. 'This is all a terrible catastrophe, but will you be kind enough to lend us your dress for a short time. We want to make a balloon out of it.'

'Oh! My stamp collection!' wailed the Hemulen.' My life's work, my magnificent collection! Rare, unique, irreplaceable! The best in the world!'