He was
the most honest and straightforward of all Frozen Nose's friends. To be
sure, he had to obey stern commands, and do many things that required a
show of fierceness, but in the course of his travels he often yielded to
a kind impulse, and restrained his fury when to indulge it would have
pleased old Frozen Nose mightily.
This very day he had met with a strange adventure, which had been the
occasion of a hasty return to the palace, and had so stirred his heart
that the whack he gave young Chilblain was but the safety-valve to his
feelings--a sort of letting off of steam which otherwise might have
exploded and burst every block of ice in the realm.
In the many furious storms which had occurred of late Boreas had seen
the destruction of numerous forests, and had even assisted in laying
waste the country. But one night an avalanche had buried a hamlet from
which only one living soul had escaped, and that was a young child--a
mere sprig of a girl, with hair like the flax and eyes like its flowers,
a little, timid, crying child--whom B.B. had actually taken in his arms
and carried all the way out of the woods, over the mountains, and
finally into Frozen Nose's own palace by the Polar Sea.
Never had such a thing happened before. Never had the tones of a child's
voice pierced his dull ears, and made that big sledge-hammer of a heart
positively ache with its throbs.
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