Day 6: The sea turtles try to count the stars.

Pim, how many stars are there in the whole sky? I tried to count them from my window last night, and I got to eleven, and then I fell asleep. Please tell me the rest. From a counter in striped pajamas. Pim read the letter to Nell, and Nell laughed. "That is better than me," she said. "Last night I only got to four."

Nell had not forgotten the word the hare had said in the snowy forest. "Count," she said again now, very seriously. "The turtles by the warm sea say they can count every star. If they count them all, they will find the empty place, and that place is mine." When the lamp was lit and the Night Wind came rushing in, she was the first one on Pim's back.

The Warm Beach

This time the Night Wind carried them south, over dark water that went on and on. The air grew warm and salty, and Pim could hear waves below. He sang, flying low over the sea, "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight." At last a little island appeared, with a curving beach of pale sand and a row of tall trees leaning over it. The wind set them down at the edge of the water.

Little waves rolled up the sand and slid back again with a hush. All along the beach, big round shapes were moving slowly up from the sea. They were sea turtles, dozens of them, with wide flippers and long patient faces. Pim zoomed over them and blinked hello again and again. One very old turtle stopped and lifted her head. "Visitors," she said slowly. "Visitors with lights."

Pim landed on the old turtle's shell, and Nell slid down beside him. "We heard that you can count every star," said Pim. "Nell fell out of the sky, and she cannot find her place." The old turtle blinked her heavy eyes. "Yes," she said. "Our grandmothers always said so. Count every star in the sky, and you will know where each one belongs. Then you will see which place is empty."

Counting on the Sand

The old turtle called the others, and they all gathered in a wide circle on the sand. They lifted their faces to the sky together. "We will each count a part," said the old turtle. "I will count the stars over the trees. You young ones count the stars over the sea." Nell sat very still in the middle of the circle, and Pim sat beside her with his glow turned low.

The turtles began to count in slow, deep voices. "One, two, three, and on and on," they hummed. "Twenty, thirty, forty, and on and on." Pim tried to count along with them, but he kept losing his place. Every time he found a star, he saw a fainter one just behind it, and then another behind that. He zoomed up higher to see better, and then he forgot which ones he had already counted.

The youngest turtle got to one hundred and then started over by mistake. Another turtle got to two hundred and fell asleep with her chin on the sand. The old turtle went on the longest of all. "Five hundred, six hundred," she said, more and more slowly. "One, two, three, and on and on." Then she stopped and shook her head. "There are always more," she said. "There are always more behind the ones I count."

Nell looked up at the sky with all its lights, near and faint and fainter still. "Then nobody can count them all?" she asked quietly. The old turtle did not say yes, and she did not say no. "My grandmother said it could be done," she said. "Perhaps it takes a very long night. Perhaps it takes more than one turtle." Pim looked at Nell, worried, but Nell only smiled a little.

"That is all right," said Nell. "You tried for me, all of you. Nobody ever counted for me before." The youngest turtle crawled over and set something down beside Nell on the sand. It was a tiny pink shell, round and smooth, with a little curl at one end. "For your teacup," said the youngest turtle shyly. Nell held it with two points and said thank you three times.

The waves hushed up the sand and slid back, again and again. The turtles began to settle down, one by one, to sleep on the warm beach. Pim felt the Night Wind stir around him. "Time to go," it said softly. Nell climbed on Pim's back with the pink shell held tight. Pim sang as they rose over the water, "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight."

Far across the sea, a small yellow light was waiting. It was the lamp in the window of the little house. Grandma Ada had left it on, so they would know where to come back to. The Night Wind set them on the sill, and Nell tucked the pink shell into the thistledown. Pim said, "The lamp is on. The door is near. And all is well here." Above the garden, the moon was rising round and white.

Nell looked up at it from her teacup. "Who lights the moon every night?" she asked sleepily. "It shines so brightly, and nobody is counting it." Pim did not know. He yawned a long firefly yawn. "Somebody will know," he said, "somewhere out there." Nell held her pink shell and watched the moon. "One, two, three, and on and on," she whispered, until the counting turned into sleep.

Lights to Count by the Window

Tonight, from your bed or your window, watch for all the stars you can see, and count them slowly, one, two, three, and on and on. Watch for the moon, and see if it is round or thin or hiding behind a cloud. And watch for one small thing you would keep in your own teacup, a shell or a stone or a button, and hold it while you count. Then let the counting go slow, and slower, until you are asleep.

Part 2: What Everyone Says About the Night

Far from the little house, the night sounds different in every place. A shepherd, some frogs, a boy on a roof and a zebra all have something to say about the moon and the stars. Pim and Nell listen to each of them, and they wonder.

Day 7: A shepherd says the moon lights its own lamp.

"Who lights the moon every night, Pim?" Nell asked again, holding her pink shell up to the window. The moon was rising over the garden, round and white, the same moon that had shone over the turtles' beach. Pim sat on the rim of the teacup and looked up at it. "I still do not know," he said. "But I think the Night Wind might know somebody who does."

The Pink Shell in the Thistledown

Nell tucked the shell carefully into her thistledown bed, so it would be safe while they were gone. Grandma Ada lit the lamp, and June waved good night from her pillow. Then the curtains stirred, and the Night Wind came in. "Tonight I will take you up high," it said, "where the grass grows on the sides of the mountains." Nell climbed onto Pim's back, and the little house dropped away below.

Up the Mountain Air

The wind carried them up and up, over steep slopes and rushing streams. The air grew thin and fresh and smelled of wild flowers. Pim sang, "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight." The words floated away into the dark. Below them, wide green meadows spread across the mountainsides. Small white shapes were scattered over the grass, sleeping in little bunches.

"Sheep," said Pim. "Look, Nell, hundreds of sheep." Somewhere among them, a bell rang softly as one of the sheep turned over in its sleep. Ding, ding, went the bell. Nell giggled, and Pim did a quick loop over the meadow. The Night Wind set them down near a tiny stone hut with a light in its one small window. Beside the hut, a shepherd sat on a bench with a sleepy dog at his feet.

The Shepherd on the Bench

The shepherd was old, with a long gray beard and a wool hat pulled over his ears. He looked up as Pim and Nell came floating toward him. The dog lifted her head, sniffed once, and then put her nose back down. "Well now," said the shepherd, and he smiled. "Two little lights, and one of them is a firefly. I have not seen a firefly up here in many years."

"I am Pim," said Pim, "and this is Nell. She is a star who fell into our garden, and we are taking her home. But first we want to know something." Nell pointed one bent point at the big white moon. "Who lights the moon every night?" she asked. The shepherd looked up at the moon, and the moon looked down at all three of them.

A Lamp of Its Own

"Nobody lights the moon," said the shepherd. "My father said the moon lights its own lamp. Every evening, when the sun goes down, the moon wakes up and lights its lamp. It carries the lamp across the sky all night, so the shepherds can see their sheep." He pointed with his walking stick. "Some nights the lamp is full, and some nights it is only a sliver."

Nell looked at the moon for a long time. "A lamp of its own," she said slowly. "Then the moon is waiting for someone too, the way Grandma Ada's lamp waits for us." The shepherd nodded. "That is what my father said. A light in the dark means someone is out there, keeping watch." Pim thought of the window of the little house, far away down the mountains. Somewhere, its lamp was on.

Counting Sheep by Moonlight

Pim zoomed off across the meadow to see the sheep up close. He landed on a fluffy back and bounced, and the sheep did not even wake. Ding, ding, went the bell on its neck. Pim laughed and flew back to the bench, and Nell laughed too. "Do you count your sheep?" Nell asked the shepherd. "Every night," said the shepherd, "by the light of the moon's lamp. That is how I know all of them are home."

"The turtles tried to count the stars for me," said Nell, "but there were too many." The shepherd chuckled. "Sheep are easier," he said. "Stars wander about, and sheep stay close to the bell." He stood up slowly, stretched his back, and went to a wooden trough beside the hut. He dipped a cup in the water and drank, and the water in the trough shook and then lay still.

Stars in the Trough

Nell slid off Pim's back and peered over the edge of the trough. The water was dark and smooth and quiet. In it, she could see the moon, round and white, and all around the moon were the stars. "Pim, look," she whispered. "The sky is down here in the water." Pim landed on the rim and looked too. There was a firefly in the water, looking back at him.

The shepherd smiled down at them both. "Down in the low country, the frogs say that is where the stars really live," he said, "down in the water, in every pool and pond." Nell's eyes went very round. Then the Night Wind rustled through the grass around the hut. "Time to go home," it said. The shepherd raised his hand, and the dog thumped her tail. Ding, ding, went the bell, far out in the meadow.

Down the Mountain Home

They flew down and down, away from the meadows and the moon-white sheep. Pim sang, "Slow wings, soft light. The lamp is on tonight." At last a small yellow light shone ahead in the dark, steady and warm. It was the lamp in the window of the little house, still on, still waiting. The Night Wind set them on the sill, right beside the teacup and the pink shell.

Nell climbed into her bed and looked out at the moon, and then down at a puddle on the garden path. A few stars shone in the puddle too. Pim said softly, "The lamp is on. The door is near. And all is well here." Nell said the words with him, slow and sleepy. The lamp glowed beside them. The moon went on across the sky. And Pim and Nell, very slowly, went to sleep.