creatures from the book, but wondered what purpose they were meant to serve.
Ahead of her the path wound between a holly bush and a large mass of rhododendrons. Between them something brightly coloured was lying on the ground. As she got closer Alice saw it was an old-fashioned painted wooden baby rattle. Somebody must have dropped it. Since it was right in the middle of the narrow path she stooped to pick it up …
It was only as she touched it that she felt the ground giving way under her with a snap and swish of dry sticks and leaves. She made a desperate sideways leap, clawed at a crumbling edge of earth, which came away in clods in her hands, and then slithered into a concealed pit.
Alice landed on her back in a shower of dirt and leaves on the remains of the pit cover, her own bundle snapping and gouging her painfully. For a few seconds she lay there, shocked and winded and hardly daring to move in case she found she had injured herself badly. But apart from the scrapes in her back she seemed to be in one piece. Slipping off her bundle she cautiously got to her feet and looked around her.
Though it had proved an effective trap, the pit was in fact not very large. She reached up and found she could just get her hand over its edge. It should not be too difficult to climb out. Perhaps it had been intended to trap some sort of animal rather than a person. A tove or mome rath, possibly? She saw the rattle lying in the debris and picked it up ruefully, only to find it was trailing a length of string with a freshly broken end, which had apparently snapped during the fall. Looking round she saw the other end dangling from a small pipe protruding from the side of the pit. Since it had not triggered the collapse, what was its purpose? Then it came to her. It must be part of an alarm system; presumably to alert whoever had dug it that the trap had been sprung. And how long would it be before they came to see what they had caught?
Anxiously she began to scrabble her way out of the pit. If she could just get a firm hold of the edge … But the earth was too soft to provide enough grip to pull herself out and kept breaking away in her hands. It was so frustrating. If only she had something to give her a leg up. Her bundle of sticks! She picked it up and wedged it against one corner of the pit, using it as a crude step. The broken ends jabbed into the sole of her foot but she gritted her teeth, lunged upwards, hauled the top half of her body over the pit edge, gave a final kick with her legs and slithered onto firm ground … only to find herself staring at two pairs of black leather shoes.
She raised her head, looking up the length of cream-coloured trousers that swelled out to encompass ample waists , short tight brown jackets with double rows of buttons, large shirt collars and finally two plump, young/old faces with wide mouths, snub noses and round, slightly bulging eyes. These peered suspiciously down at her from under the brims of small striped peaked caps.
Alice sighed. She recognised the pair, of course. As with her first adventure, it looked like she was going to encounter characters from the book as she went. That, apparently, was the way what passed for chance operated in Underland.
‘I thought we’d caught a tove, Dee,’ one of the pair said petulantly.
‘Contrariwise, I thought it was a mome rath, Dum,’ his twin replied. ‘But it’s just a silly girling.’
This description of herself annoyed Alice. She climbed painfully to her feet and said angrily, ‘Did you dig that trap? I could have broken my neck falling into that. Can’t you play your games somewhere else?’
The pair did not appear in the least repentant. Ignoring her protest, Dee looked her up and down and then said calculatingly, ‘Maybe there’ll be a reward for rescuing her.’
‘But you didn’t rescue me,’ Alice said.
‘We did if we say so,’ Dee snapped. ‘You’re just a girling, nobody’ll believe what you say. Who do you
Ahead of her the path wound between a holly bush and a large mass of rhododendrons. Between them something brightly coloured was lying on the ground. As she got closer Alice saw it was an old-fashioned painted wooden baby rattle. Somebody must have dropped it. Since it was right in the middle of the narrow path she stooped to pick it up …
It was only as she touched it that she felt the ground giving way under her with a snap and swish of dry sticks and leaves. She made a desperate sideways leap, clawed at a crumbling edge of earth, which came away in clods in her hands, and then slithered into a concealed pit.
Alice landed on her back in a shower of dirt and leaves on the remains of the pit cover, her own bundle snapping and gouging her painfully. For a few seconds she lay there, shocked and winded and hardly daring to move in case she found she had injured herself badly. But apart from the scrapes in her back she seemed to be in one piece. Slipping off her bundle she cautiously got to her feet and looked around her.
Though it had proved an effective trap, the pit was in fact not very large. She reached up and found she could just get her hand over its edge. It should not be too difficult to climb out. Perhaps it had been intended to trap some sort of animal rather than a person. A tove or mome rath, possibly? She saw the rattle lying in the debris and picked it up ruefully, only to find it was trailing a length of string with a freshly broken end, which had apparently snapped during the fall. Looking round she saw the other end dangling from a small pipe protruding from the side of the pit. Since it had not triggered the collapse, what was its purpose? Then it came to her. It must be part of an alarm system; presumably to alert whoever had dug it that the trap had been sprung. And how long would it be before they came to see what they had caught?
Anxiously she began to scrabble her way out of the pit. If she could just get a firm hold of the edge … But the earth was too soft to provide enough grip to pull herself out and kept breaking away in her hands. It was so frustrating. If only she had something to give her a leg up. Her bundle of sticks! She picked it up and wedged it against one corner of the pit, using it as a crude step. The broken ends jabbed into the sole of her foot but she gritted her teeth, lunged upwards, hauled the top half of her body over the pit edge, gave a final kick with her legs and slithered onto firm ground … only to find herself staring at two pairs of black leather shoes.
She raised her head, looking up the length of cream-coloured trousers that swelled out to encompass ample waists , short tight brown jackets with double rows of buttons, large shirt collars and finally two plump, young/old faces with wide mouths, snub noses and round, slightly bulging eyes. These peered suspiciously down at her from under the brims of small striped peaked caps.
Alice sighed. She recognised the pair, of course. As with her first adventure, it looked like she was going to encounter characters from the book as she went. That, apparently, was the way what passed for chance operated in Underland.
‘I thought we’d caught a tove, Dee,’ one of the pair said petulantly.
‘Contrariwise, I thought it was a mome rath, Dum,’ his twin replied. ‘But it’s just a silly girling.’
This description of herself annoyed Alice. She climbed painfully to her feet and said angrily, ‘Did you dig that trap? I could have broken my neck falling into that. Can’t you play your games somewhere else?’
The pair did not appear in the least repentant. Ignoring her protest, Dee looked her up and down and then said calculatingly, ‘Maybe there’ll be a reward for rescuing her.’
‘But you didn’t rescue me,’ Alice said.
‘We did if we say so,’ Dee snapped. ‘You’re just a girling, nobody’ll believe what you say. Who do you
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