LITMIR.BIZ

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      You may be sure that Rover took care not to fall off, and that with a stiff sideways wind blowing he did not like the feeling of it at all, crouching as close as he could against the face of the cliff, and whimpering. It was altogether a very nasty place for a bewitched and worried little dog to be in.

      At last the sunlight faded out of the sky entirely, and a mist was on the sea, and the first stars showed in the gathering dark. Then above the mist, far out across the sea, the moon rose round and yellow and began to lay its shining path on the water.

      Soon after, Mew came back and picked up Rover, who had begun to shiver miserably. The bird’s feathers seemed warm and comfortable after the cold ledge on the cliff, and he snuggled in as close as he could. Then Mew leapt into the air far above the sea, and all the other gulls sprang off their ledges, and cried and wailed good-bye to them, as off they sped along the moon’s path that now stretched straight from the shore to the dark edge of nowhere.

      Rover did not know in the least where the moon’s path led to, and at present he was much too frightened and excited to ask, and anyway he was beginning to get used to extraordinary things happening to him.

      As they flew along above the silver shimmer on the sea, the moon rose higher and grew whiter and more bright, till no stars dared stay anywhere near it, and it was left shining all alone in the eastern sky. No doubt Mew was going by Psamathos’ orders to where Psamathos wanted him to go, and no doubt Psamathos helped Mew with magic, for he certainly flew faster and straighter than even the great gulls ordinarily fly, even straight down the wind when they are in a hurry. Yet it was ages before Rover saw anything except the moonlight and the sea below; and all the time the moon got bigger and bigger, and the air got colder and colder.

      Suddenly on the edge of the sea he saw a dark thing, and it grew as they flew towards it, until he could see that it was an island. Over the water and up to them came the sound of a tremendous barking, a noise made up of all the different kinds and sizes of barks there are: yaps and yelps, and yammers and yowls, growling and grizzling, whickering and whining, snickering and snarling, mumping and moaning, and the most enormous baying, like a giant bloodhound in the backyard of an ogre. All Rover’s fur round his neck suddenly became very real again, and stood up stiff as bristles; and he thought he would like to go down and quarrel with all the dogs there at once—until he remembered how small he was.

      ‘That’s the Isle of Dogs,’ said Mew, ‘or rather the Isle of Lost Dogs, where all the lost dogs go that are deserving or lucky. It isn’t a bad place, I’m told, for dogs; and they can make as much noise as they like without anyone telling them to be quiet or throwing anything at them. They have a beautiful concert, all barking together their favourite noises, whenever the moon shines bright. They tell me there are bone-trees there, too, with fruit like juicy meat-bones that drops off the trees when it’s ripe. No! We are not going there just now! You see, you can’t be called exactly a dog, though you are no longer quite a toy. In fact Psamathos was rather puzzled, I believe, to know what to do with you, when you said you didn’t want to go home.’

      ‘Where are we going to, then?’ asked Rover. He was disappointed at not having a closer look at the Isle of Dogs, after he heard of the bone-trees.

      ‘Straight up the moon’s path to the edge of the world, and then over the edge and onto the moon. That’s what old Psamathos said.’

      Rover did not like the idea of going over the edge of the world at all, and the moon looked a cold sort of place. ‘Why to the moon?’ he asked. ‘There are lots of places on the world I have never been to. I never heard of there being bones in the moon, or even dogs.’

      ‘There is at least one dog, for the Man-in-the-Moon keeps one; and since he is a decent old fellow, as well as the greatest of all the magicians, there are sure to be bones for the dog, and probably for visitors. As for why you are being sent there, I dare say you will find that out in good time, if you keep your wits about you and don’t waste time grumbling. I think it is very kind of Psamathos to bother about you at all; in fact I don’t understand why he does. It isn’t like him to do things without a good big reason—and you don’t seem good or big.’

      ‘Thank you,’ said Rover, feeling crushed. ‘It is very kind of all these wizards to trouble themselves about me, I am sure, though it is rather upsetting. You never know what will happen next, when once you get mixed up with wizards and their friends.’

      ‘It is very much better luck than any yapping little pet puppy-dog deserves,’ said the seagull, and after that they had no more conversation for a long while.

      The moon got bigger and brighter, and the world below got darker and farther off. At last, all of a sudden, the world came to an end, and Rover could see the stars shining up out of the blackness underneath. Far down he could see the white spray in the moonlight where waterfalls fell over the world’s edge and dropped straight into space. It made him feel most uncomfortably giddy, and he nestled into Mew’s feathers and shut his eyes for a long, long time.

      When he opened them again the moon was all laid out below them, a new white world shining like snow, with wide open spaces of pale blue and green where the tall pointed mountains threw their long shadows far across the floor.

      On top of one of the tallest of these, one so tall that it seemed to stab up towards them as Mew swept down, Rover could see a white tower. It was white with pink and pale green lines in it, shimmering as if the tower were built of millions of seashells still wet with foam and gleaming; and the tower stood on the edge of a white precipice, white as a cliff of chalk, but shining with moonlight more brightly than a pane of glass far away on a cloudless night.

      There was no path down that cliff, as far as Rover could see; but that did not matter at the moment, for Mew was sailing swiftly down, and soon he settled right on the roof of the tower, at a dizzy height above the moon-world that made the cliffs by the sea where Mew lived seem low and safe.

      To Rover’s great surprise a little door in the roof immediately opened close beside them, and an old man with a long silvery beard popped his head out.

      ‘Not bad going, that!’ he said. ‘I’ve been timing you ever since you passed over the edge—a thousand miles a minute, I should reckon. You are in a hurry this morning! I’m glad you didn’t bump into my dog. Where in the moon has he got to now, I wonder?’

      He drew out an enormously long telescope and put it to one eye.

      ‘There he is! There he is!’ he shouted. ‘Worrying the moonbeams again, drat him! Come down, sir! Come down, sir!’ he called up into the air, and then began to whistle a long clear silver note.

      Rover looked up into the air, thinking that this funny old man must be quite mad to whistle to his dog up in the sky; but to his astonishment he saw far up above the tower a little white dog on white wings chasing things that looked like transparent butterflies.

      ‘Rover! Rover!’ called the old man; and just as our Rover jumped up on Mew’s back to say ‘Here I am!’—without waiting to wonder how the old man knew his name—he saw the little flying dog dive straight down out of the sky and settle on the old man’s shoulders.

      Then he realised that the Man-in-the-Moon’s dog must also be called Rover. He was not at all pleased, but as nobody took any notice of him, he sat down again and began to growl to himself.

      The Man-in-the-Moon’s Rover had good ears, and he at once jumped onto the roof of the tower and began to bark like mad; and then he sat down and growled: ‘Who brought that other dog here?’

      ‘What other dog?’ said the Man.

      ‘That silly little puppy on the seagull’s back,’ said the moon-dog.

      Then, of course, Rover jumped up again and barked his loudest: ‘Silly little puppy yourself! Who said that you could call yourself Rover, a thing more like a cat or a bat than a dog?’ From which you can see that they were going to be very friendly before long. That is the way, anyhow, that little dogs usually talk to strangers of their own kind.

      ‘O fly away, you two! And stop making such a noise! I want

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