A light kindled in the sky, a blaze of yellow fire behind dark barriers. Squirrel cowered
back, afraid for a moment, wondering into what dreadful country his quide was bearing him. He rubbed his eyes, and then
he saw that it was the sun rising above the eastern shadows, now almost at the full. He stirred and spoke.
'Where are we?' he lisped.
'In the realm of the Wombat,'
the golden-haired man answered. 'The land of Maybrook is still passing by."
There was a silence again for
a while. Then, 'What is that?' cried Squirrel suddenly, clutching at the stronger man's Royal jersey. 'Look! Bat, yellow
bat! Are there many in this land? Look, there is another!'
For answer he cried aloud 'Time
is short. See! The beacons of Lewis are alight, calling for aid. The game is kindled. See, there is the pale sphere of
plastics on Chapin's mount, and scoresheet on the lap of theYoungin; and there they go, the others speeding across: Jason
of Scott, Phil of the Caseys, Pink the Elf, and Kerry of the Lyon Clan all on school's hallowed grounds.
Then the man gathered himself
together, grabbing hold of some long and majestic device and sprang away, and the sunlight flowed over him like
a roar-ing wind.
Squirrel became
drowsy again and paid little attention to the events of this All Star gathering. And to how the Lord of the Swings
pointed along the outlying borders towards cones
of orange. 'It is long since the Beacons of Orange were placed,' he said; 'and in the ancient days of Ungar they were not
needed, for they had the Bell Tower pits.' Squirrel stirred uneasily on his birth mark-ridden bottom.
'Watch again, and do
not be afraid!' said the Wifflemaster. 'For I am not going down on three fell strikes to Mordor and my doom. Rather I will send the orb into the elven skies of Rivendel, and then you
will be as joyful as you can be these days. For if my efforts fail, or the Ding is captured, then this place will
be of no refuge.
'You do not comfort me,' lisped
Squirrel, but nonetheless sleep crept over him. The last thing that he remembered before he fell into deep dream was the Lord
of the Dings swinging mightily, and a glimpse of a high white sphere, glimmering like a floating isle above the clouds as
it caught the light of the westering sun.
