peered through his goggles, concentrating on keeping clear of the ditches and hoping that the road would remain empty of other vehicles until he âgot the hang of it,â as Baltinglass had put it. Behind him Little sang a driving song that harmonized perfectly with the engine, and in their wake small birds fluttered dizzily to the ground.
They made good time along the highway, and after a while Miles began to feel more confident.His shoulders relaxed and he allowed himself to blink now and then. Under Baltinglass of Arabyâs shouted tuition he learned to use the gearshift, and to slow down on the corners so that he no longer made the tires squeal and chickens and children dive for cover. The smile on his face grew and grew as Littleâs song threaded its way through the morning and the car ate up the road like an insatiable beast. By midafternoon he felt like a king on a well-sprung throne.
âWhere are we now?â shouted Baltinglass of Araby, jerking out of one of his frequent naps.
âWe passed through Nape a little while ago,â said Miles.
âHah!â said Baltinglass, clapping his hands together. âA sterling effort, boy. Pull over when you see a shady spot and weâll break out some vittles. My tongueâs as dry as a bushmanâs ankle and I could eat a small bison on toast.â
Miles pulled off the road and they rolled to a halt beneath a large oak tree. Baltinglass of Araby hauled the duffel bag from the trunk and before long they were eating tomato bread and vinegar fish, and washing the dust from their throats with parsnip wine. After so many hours of driving Miles could still see the ground rushing toward him, andhe closed his eyes to rest them.
âA Tigerâs Egg, eh?â said Baltinglass at length, wiping his wrinkled lips with his sleeve. âYouâre full of surprises, Master Miles. Did you win it in a raffle?â
âIt belonged to my mother,â said Miles, sitting up. âAt least, she had it on loan from the Fir Bolg. Have you heard of them too?â
ââCourse I have. Hairy little fellas. In fact, I made those ones up myself to liven up a quiet watch on board the HMS Calamity , if I remember rightly.â
âI donât think so,â said Miles. âIâve met them.â
Baltinglass pushed back his woolly hat and scratched his head. âFunny. Did you meet the three-eyed baboons who live underwater in a giant banjo?â
âNo,â said Miles.
âMust have been those that I made up,â said Baltinglass. âSo how did your mother persuade the Fir Bolg to part with a Tigerâs Egg?â
âShe made a deal with them,â said Miles.
Little leaned over the back of the bench seat. âDid you find out what it was?â she asked, showering him with bread crumbs.
âIâm not sure if itâs meant to be a secret,â said Miles hesitantly. He had been reading the diary his mother had kept when she met the Fir Bolg allthose years ago, and though she had died when he was born he still felt a little uncomfortable at the idea of sharing its contents.
âYou can tell us,â said Little. âWe wonât tell a soul.â
âYour secretâs safe with me, boy,â yelled Baltinglass in a voice that could be heard half a mile away. âI canât even remember what I had for supper last night.â
âItâs hard to make out,â said Miles. âHer writing is strange, and she mixes in a lot of words and symbols that I donât understand.â He felt inside his coat pocket, where Tangerine was tucked up with Celesteâs worn leather diary. He took it out and thumbed through the closely written pages. âThe Fir Bolg canât stand the light,â he said. âTheyâve lived underground for as long as they can remember and can only come out on moonless nights. As far as I can tell, they asked my mother to find a way to cure