Free The Book of Dragons by E. Nesbit Page B

muttering and whispering. Then the muttering stopped—and there was a silence so deep that Jane was afraid to howl in it. But it was a brown silence, and she had liked the white silence better.
    Then the chief dwarf came quite close and said: “What’s that on your head?”
    And George felt it was all up—for he knew it was his father’s sealskin cap.
    The dwarf did not wait for an answer. “It’s made of one of
us,”
he screamed, “or else one of the seals, our poor relations. Boy, now your fate is sealed!”
    And looking at the wicked seal-faces all around them, George and Jane felt that their fate was sealed indeed.
    The dwarfs seized the children in their furry arms. George kicked, but it is no use kicking sealskin, and Jane howled, but the dwarfs were getting used to that. They climbed up the dragon’s side and dumped the children down on his icy spine, with their backs against the North Pole. You have no idea how cold it was—the kind of cold that makes you feel small and prickly inside your clothes, and makes you wish you had twenty times as many clothes to feel small and prickly inside of.
    The sealskin dwarfs tied George and Jane to the North Pole, and, as they had no ropes, they bound them with snow-wreaths, which are very strong when they are made in the proper way, and they heaped up the fires very close and said:
    “Now the dragon will get warm, and when he gets warm he will wake, and when he wakes he will be hungry, and when he is hungry he will begin to eat, and the first thing he will eat
will be you.”

    The dwarfs seized the children
    The little, sharp, many-colored flames sprang up like the stalks of dream lilies, but no heat came to the children, and they grew colder and colder.
    “We shan’t be very nice when the dragon does eat us, that’s one comfort,” said George; “we shall be turned into ice long before that.”
    Suddenly there was a flapping of wings, and the white grouse perched on the dragon’s head and said:
    “Can I be of any assistance?”
    Now by this time the children were so cold, so cold, so very, very cold, that they had forgotten everything but that, and they could say nothing else. So the white grouse said:
    “One moment. I am only too grateful for this opportunity of showing my sense of your manly conduct about the firework!”
    And the next moment there was a soft whispering rustle of wings overhead, and then, fluttering slowly, softly down, came hundreds and thousands of little white fluffy feathers. They fell on George and Jane like snowflakes, and, like flakes of fallen snow lying one above another, they grew into a thicker and thicker covering, so that presently the children were buried under a heap of white feathers, and only their faces peeped out.
    “Oh, you dear, good, kind white grouse,” said Jane; “but you’ll be cold yourself, won’t you, now you have given us all your pretty dear feathers?”
    The white grouse laughed, and his laugh was echoed by thousands of kind, soft bird-voices.
    “Did you think all those feathers came out of one breast? There are hundreds and hundreds of us here, and every one of us can spare a little tuft of soft breast feathers to help to keep two kind little hearts warm!”
    Thus spoke the grouse, who certainly had very pretty manners.
    So now the children snuggled under the feathers and were warm, and when the sealskin dwarfs tried to take the feathers away, the grouse and his friends flew in their faces with flappings and screams, and drove the dwarfs back. They are a cowardly folk.
    The dragon had not moved yet—but then he might at any moment get warm enough to move, and though George and Jane were now warm they were not comfortable, nor easy in their minds. They tried to explain to the grouse; but though he is polite, he is not clever, and he only said:
    “You’ve got a warm nest, and we’ll see that no one takes it from you. What more can you possibly want?”
    Just then came a new, strange, jerky fluttering of