The Further Adventures Of Gobbolino And The Little Wooden Horse

20 GOING HOME

It WAS THE SAME OWL that had brought Sootica’s message to Gobbolino. He recognized it at once.

The owl made no sign of recognition, but it stared and stared at Gobbolino with its golden eyes, till, finding itself an object of curiosity to the pair of them, it turned its back, but before long it was twisting its head round on its shoulder and staring at them again.

"Oh, Owl! Owl!" Gobbolino cried. "If you are the same owl, and I know you are, will you please take a message back to our homes in the forest? Oh please, please do!"

The owl immediately rose several feet into the air on wide, soft wings, and came down facing them again. It ducked its head forward, and appeared perfectly willing to be made use of.

Gobbolino looked frantically for something that would do to write a message on, and finally a wide leaf beside the stream seemed large and strong enough to serve for a writing pad. The little wooden horse fetched another.

Side by side on a flat stone Gobbolino scratched the words on each leaf with his sharpest claw:

"WE ARE COMING HOME!"

The owl stretched out its head, flew down, and with a gentle beak received both the messages, transferring them to its powerful claws. Then, without a word, it flew off into the darkness, leaving Gobbolino and the little wooden horse greatly comforted. They lay down side by side and slept till morning.

As the sun rose they saw that the owl was back again. He looked very tired, and he was fast asleep with his head tucked underneath his wing.

Before leaving, they thanked and embraced him.

The owl did not open his eyes, but they felt by the fluffing of his feathers that he was pleased by their gratitude.

Far, far away across the plain behind them the pale blue outline of the Hurricane Mountains seemed a hundred years ago, soon to be swallowed up by the trees of the forest.

They were going home!

Steadily silently walking on soft needles instead of stones, they padded on their way, hardly talking now, because their thoughts were all of home.

They knew that they would miss their close companionship when the time came to part. They had not been friends and gone through so many adventures together for nothing. Gobbolino would never forget the loyalty and courage of his friend, the little wooden horse, who had dared so much for him, and risked losing his own life for Gobbolino's sake.

But although the forest was wide, they did not live so very far from one another, and surely there would be days when they could meet and talk over their adventures? Surely the farm children would welcome the little wooden horse with great joy and delight in the farm kitchen? And perhaps Uncle Peder and his wife would be glad to see Gobbolino at their home in the forest when he came to call?

The thought of home was warm and comforting all through the long days travelling, when the forest trees seemed never ending, and the path was so full of turnings and corners it seemed that it would never arrive anywhere at all.

As morning merged into afternoon and afternoon into twilight they began to think they would have to spend yet another night sleeping out of doors.

In spite of the soft ground their paws and wheels were sore and very weary, and they were walking more and more slowly when far away through the forest a sound made their ears prick, and they stopped all of a sudden in their tracks.

This time it was not the cry of hounds, nor the twittering of bats, nor the far-off, familiar shrieking of the witch. It was music… children’s voices singing in the twilight… singing bravely and loudly to banish the terrors of the darkness, and with them a deeper, bolder voice was joining in the chorus to cheer them on.

Gobbolino gave a little miaow of excitement, while the wooden horse bounded forward with a whinny of joy.

Down the darkening path they galloped, never stopping for a moment until they were in the loving arms of the farm children, who, hand in hand with Uncle Peder, had braved the dark night and the shadows to come and meet them and take them home.

When their rapturous welcome was over they set off by the way they had come, only calling in for a brief visit to Uncle Peder’s home to assure his wife that all was well, and he and the little wooden horse would be with her once they had taken the farm children and Gobbolino safely home.

This being done, the walk back to the cottage from the farm was the happiest moment of the little wooden horse’s life.

Telling the story to his master he trotted by his side, with his one ear brushing Uncle Peder’s trouser leg, and another ear already promised for the morrow.

He had left his friend Gobbolino purring by the fire, the centre of everyone’s love and attention. They had promised to meet one another at the very earliest opportunity. It might even be tomorrow!

When their rapturous welcome was over they set off.

And now with his task successfully ended and his adventure over he was going back with his beloved master to his own place by the fire, in that home which he knew was his for ever and ever and ever.