A Day of Discovery

MME and P P von HedwigThe morning dawned clear and sparkling as a crystal champagne flute. Sunlight glittered on the snow; ice shone. Ulrik piloted the Schöneluflt parallel to the massive peaks the vonHedwigs had come so far to study. The Observation Deck held a full house – every vonHedwig aboard had staked out a window.

Mother found a vantage point behind one of the shorter children and looked meaningfully at Father, who shrugged. Two hours later he sidled up to her and whispered.

“I don’t know what’s caught their attention, but they are marvelously focused!”

It was true. Only Bettina, who was practically a baby, had given up searching the landscape. She was playing quietly, breathing on the window and drawing fireworks in the condensation. Occasionally she would whisper “Boom!” and giggle. Gerhardt, Mirabelle, Annabelle, Adolphus, and Claire were all fixed at the windows, absorbed by the view.

Mother whispered back, “I’m delighted, of course, but I simply can’t believe the cretaceous period has them so engrossed. Something else is afoot.”

Just then Gerhardt spoke up. “Look at that funny fold in the rocks! It almost looks like a face.”

Madame vonHedwig looked where her son was pointing, and saw a glimpse of exactly the sort of catastrophic geographic evidence she had come to the Himalayas to find, slipping off astern. She stood still, trembling all over with excitement.

“Oh, Gerhardt darling, such a clever boy!” she breathed.

“Ulrik,” Herr vonHedwig called, “better go back for another pass.”

Ulrik’s long fingers hovered over a shiny red lever. “Engines in reverse, mein Herr?”

“No, no, better not. The boiler chief takes great exception to that request – don’t want them in an uproar. Just come about in the valley and take another swipe at it.”

Ulrik complied, and steered the great airship in a graceful loop into the valley, and approached the wall again.

“Magnificent!” Mother said. “Ulrik, give me the precise bearing of this spot. I’m going to sketch it.”

“And I will photograph it,” Father said. “Hold her steady, Ulrik.”

Bettina wiped the remains of a particularly violent explosion off the windowpane and looked out, hoping to see the face in the mountain. Instead, she saw movement in the snow below.

“Bear-man!” she squealed.

The children looked; the adults were busy sketching, setting up photographic equipment, and holding her steady.

Claire was the last to look. She saw just a flash of movement as whatever it was disappeared. She saw too much to deny, but not enough to be certain. She was quiet, therefore, when her siblings burst into a cacophony of excited babble. This was too much for even the most patient parents. Father fumbled his lens and mother broke the tip of her pencil.

“Jupiter!” Father roared. “What is the meaning of this noise?”

The children fell silent at once, looking at each other in alarm.  Adolphus took a step forward, placed one hand on his waistcoat and the other behind his back, looking serious.

“Mother,” he said, acknowledging each with a nod, “Father, I believe I have discovered the Yeti.”

A flurry of small white objects sailed through the air, striking Adolphus in the face. He removed one from his ear and waved it in the direction of his attackers.

“That is to say we, we all, have discovered the Yeti.”

Bettina, spying the fallen marshmallows, crawled toward her brother to retrieve them. At the same time a small brass self-propelled sweeping apparatus rolled over to the fallen treats, a tiny puff of steam escaping its embossed chimney. Bettina growled, and reached into her pinafore pocket and pulled out a crayon. The sweeping machine advanced on the marshmallows, and Bettina fended it off with her crayon, poking it with one hand, stuffing marshmallows into her mouth with the other.  The sweeper expelled an angry puff of steam and circled behind her, sucking at her untied bootlaces. Above her, the discussion continued.

This story began with On Grandmothers.  The last episode is Meanwhile, Back in the Lab and the next is The Children’s Hypothesis.