Man was getting it hot. And much Man cared! The seas were his,
and their islands; he had his frigates for the taking, his
pirates and their hoards for an unregarded cutlass-stroke or two;
and there were Princesses in plenty waiting for him somewhere--
Princesses of the right sort.



THE RELUCTANT DRAGON

Footprints in the snow have been unfailing provokers of sentiment
ever since snow was first a white wonder in this drab-coloured
world of ours. In a poetry-book presented to one of us by an
aunt, there was a poem by one Wordsworth in which they stood out
strongly--with a picture all to themselves, too--but we didn't
think very highly either of the poem or the sentiment.
Footprints in the sand, now, were quite another matter, and we
grasped Crusoe's attitude of mind much more easily than
Wordsworth's. Excitement and mystery, curiosity and suspense--
these were the only sentiments that tracks, whether in sand or in
snow, were able to arouse in us.

We had awakened early that winter morning, puzzled at first by
the added light that filled the room. Then, when the truth at
last fully dawned on us and we knew that snow-balling was no
longer a wistful dream, but a solid certainty waiting for us
outside, it was a mere brute fight for the necessary clothes, and
the lacing of boots seemed a clumsy invention, and the buttoning
of coats an unduly tedious form of fastening, with all that snow
going to waste at our very door.