Rinkitink In Oz By L Frank Baum

Wherein is recorded the Perilous Quest of Prince Inga of Pingaree and King Rinkitink in the Magical Isles that lie beyond the Borderland of Oz By L. Frank Baum “Royal Historian of Oz” Introducing this Story Here is a story with a boy hero, and a boy of whom you have never before heard. There are girls in the story, too, including our old friend Dorothy, and some of the characters wander a good way from the Land of Oz before they all assemble in the Emerald City to take part in Ozma’s banquet. Indeed, I think you will find this story quite different from the other histories of Oz, but I hope you will not like it the less on that account. If I am permitted to write another Oz book it will tell of some thrilling adventures encountered by Dorothy, Betsy Bobbin, Trot and the Patchwork Girl right in the Land of Oz, and how they discovered some amazing creatures that never could have existed outside a fairy-land. I have an idea that about the time you are reading this story of Rinkitink I shall be writing that story of Adventures in Oz. Don’t fail to write me often and give me your advice and suggestions, which I always appreciate. I get a good many letters from my readers, but every one is a joy to me and I answer them as soon as I can find time to do so. “OZCOT”at HOLLYWOODin CALIFORNIA, 1916. L. FRANK BAUMRoyal Historian of Oz LIST OF CHAPTERS 1 The Prince of Pingaree 2 The Coming of King Rinkitink 3 The Warriors from the North 4 The Deserted Island 5 The Three Pearls 6 The Magic Boat 7 The Twin Islands 8 Rinkitink Makes a Great Mistake 9 A Present for Zella10 The Cunning of Queen Cor11 Zella Goes to Coregos12 The Excitement of Bilbil the Goat 13 Zella Saves the Prince14 The Escape15 The Flight of the Rulers16 Nikobob Refuses a Crown17 The Nome King18 Inga Parts With His Pink Pearl19 Rinkitink Chuckles20 Dorothy to the Rescue21 The Wizard Finds an Enchantment22 Ozma’s Banquet23 The Pearl Kingdom24 The Captive King Chapter One The Prince of Pingaree If you have a map of the Land of Oz handy, you will find that the great Nonestic Ocean washes the shores of the Kingdom of Rinkitink, between which and the Land of Oz lies a strip of the country of the Nome King and a Sandy Desert. The Kingdom of Rinkitink isn’t very big and lies close to the ocean, all the houses and the King’s palace being built near the shore. The people live much upon the water, boating and fishing, and the wealth of Rinkitink is gained from trading along the coast and with the islands nearest it. Four days’ journey by boat to the north of Rinkitink is the Island of Pingaree, and as our story begins here I must tell you something about this island. At the north end of Pingaree, where it is widest, the land is a mile from shore to shore, but at the south end it is scarcely half a mile broad; thus, although Pingaree is four miles long, from north to south, it cannot be called a very big island. It is exceedingly pretty, however, and to the gulls who approach it from the sea it must resemble a huge green wedge lying upon the waters, for its grass and trees give it the color of an emerald. The grass came to the edge of the sloping shores; the beautiful trees occupied all the central portion of Pingaree, forming a continuous grove where the branches met high overhead and there was just space beneath them for the cosy houses of the inhabitants. These houses were scattered everywhere throughout the island, so that there was no town or city, unless the whole island might be called a city. The canopy of leaves, high overhead, formed a shelter from sun and rain, and the dwellers in the grove could all look past the straight tree-trunks and across the grassy slopes to the purple waters of the Nonestic Ocean. At the big end of the island, at the north, stood the royal palace of King Kitticut, the lord and ruler of Pingaree. It was a beautiful palace, built entirely of snow-white marble and capped by domes of burnished gold, for the King was exceedingly wealthy. All along the coast of Pingaree were found the largest and finest pearls in the whole world. These pearls grew within the shells of big oysters, and the people raked the oysters from their watery beds, sought out the milky pearls and carried them dutifully to their King. Therefore, once every year His Majesty was able to send six of his boats, with sixty rowers and many sacks of the valuable pearls, to the Kingdom of Rinkitink, where there was a city called Gilgad, in which King Rinkitink’s palace stood on a rocky headland and served, with its high towers, as a lighthouse to guide sailors to the harbor. In Gilgad the pearls from Pingaree were purchased by the King’s treasurer, and the boats went back to the island laden with stores of rich merchandise and such supplies of food as the people and the royal family of Pingaree needed. The Pingaree people never visited any other land but that of Rinkitink, and so there were few other lands that knew there was such an island. To the southwest was an island called the Isle of Phreex, where the inhabitants had no use for pearls. And far north of Pingaree — six days’ journey by boat, it was said — were twin islands named Regos and Coregos, inhabited by a fierce and warlike people. Many years before this story really begins, ten big boatloads of those fierce warriors of Regos and Coregos visited Pingaree, landing suddenly upon the north end of the island. There they began to plunder and conquer, as was their custom, but the people of Pingaree, although neither so big nor so strong as their foes, were able to defeat them and drive them all back to the sea, where a great storm overtook the raiders from Regos and Coregos and destroyed them and their boats, not a single warrior returning to his own country. This defeat of the enemy seemed the more wonderful because the pearl-fishers of Pingaree were mild and peaceful in disposition and seldom quarreled even among themselves. Their only weapons were their oyster rakes; yet the fact remains that they drove their fierce enemies from Regos and Coregos from their shores. King Kitticut was only a boy when this remarkable battle was fought, and now his hair was gray; but he remembered the day well and, during the years that followed, his one constant fear was of another invasion of his enemies. He feared they might send a more numerous army to his island, both for conquest and revenge, in which case there could be little hope of successfully opposing them. This anxiety on the part of King Kitticut led him to keep a sharp lookout for strange boats, one of his men patrolling the beach constantly, but he was too wise to allow any fear to make him or his subjects unhappy. He was a good King and lived very contentedly in his fine palace, with his fair Queen Garee and their one child, Prince Inga. The wealth of Pingaree increased year by year; and the happiness of the people increased, too. Perhaps there was no place, outside the Land of Oz, where contentment and peace were more manifest than on this pretty island, hidden in the besom of the Nonestic Ocean. Had these conditions remained undisturbed, there would have been no need to speak of Pingaree in this story. Prince Inga, the heir to all the riches and the kingship of Pingaree, grew up surrounded by every luxury; but he was a manly little fellow, although somewhat too grave and thoughtful, and he could never bear to be idle a single minute. He knew where the finest oysters lay hidden along the coast and was as successful in finding pearls as any of the men of the island, although he was so slight and small. He had a little boat of his own and a rake for dragging up the oysters and he was very proud indeed when he could carry a big white pearl to his father. There was no school upon the island, as the people of Pingaree were far removed from the state of civilization that gives our modern children such advantages as schools and learned professors, but the King owned several manuscript books, the pages being made of sheepskin. Being a man of intelligence, he was able to teach his son something of reading, writing and arithmetic. When studying his lessons Prince Inga used to go into the grove near his father’s palace and climb into the branches of a tall tree, where he had built a platform with a comfortable seat to rest upon, all hidden by the canopy of leaves. There, with no one to disturb him, he would pore over the sheepskin on which were written the queer characters of the Pingarese language. King Kitticut was very proud of his little son, as well he might be, and he soon felt a high respect for Inga’s judgment and thought that he was worthy to be taken into the confidence of his father in many matters of state. He taught the boy the needs of the people and how to rule them justly, for some day he knew that Inga would be King in his place. One day he called his son to his side and said to him: “Our island now seems peaceful enough, Inga, and we are happy and prosperous, but I cannot forget those terrible people of Regos and Coregos. My constant fear is that they will send a fleet of boats to search for those of their race whom we defeated many years ago, and whom the sea afterwards destroyed. If the warriors come in great numbers we may be unable to oppose them, for my people are little trained to fighting at best; they surely would cause us much injury and suffering.” “Are we, then, less powerful than in my grandfather’s day?” asked Prince Inga. The King shook his head thoughtfully. “It is not that,” said he. “That you may fully understand that marvelous battle, I must confide to, you a great secret. I have in my possession three Magic Talismans, which I have ever guarded with utmost care, keeping the knowledge of their existence from anyone else. But, lest I should die, and the secret be lost, I have decided to tell you what these talismans are and where they are hidden. Come with me, my son. He led the way through the rooms of the palace until they came to the great banquet hall. There, stopping in the center of the room, he stooped down and touched a hidden spring in the tiled floor. At once one of the tiles sank downward and the King reached within the cavity and drew out a silken bag. This bag he proceeded to open, showing Inga that it contained three great pearls, each one as big around as a marble. One had a blue tint and one was of a delicate rose color, but the third was pure white. “These three pearls,” said the King, speaking in a solemn, impressive voice, “are the most wonderful the world has ever known. They were gifts to one of my ancestors from the Mermaid Queen, a powerful fairy whom he once had the good fortune to rescue from her enemies. In gratitude for this favor she presented him with these pearls. Each of the three possesses an astonishing power, and whoever is their owner may count himself a fortunate man. This one having the blue tint will give to the person who carries it a strength so great that no power can resist him. The one with the pink glow will protect its owner from all dangers that may threaten him, no matter from what source they may come. The third pearl — this one of pure white — can speak, and its words are always wise and helpful.” “What is this, my father!” exclaimed the Prince, amazed; “do you tell me that a pearl can speak? It sounds impossible.” “Your doubt is due to your ignorance of fairy powers,” returned the King, gravely. “Listen, my son, and you will know that I speak the truth.” He held the white pearl to Inga’s ear and the Prince heard a small voice say distinctly: “Your father is right. Never question the truth of what you fail to understand, for the world is filled with wonders.” “I crave your pardon, dear father,” said the Prince, “for clearly I heard the pearl speak, and its words were full of wisdom.” “The powers of the other pearls are even greater,” resumed the King. “Were I poor in all else, these gems would make me richer than any other monarch the world holds.” “I believe that,” replied Inga, looking at the beautiful pearls with much awe. “But tell me, my father, why do you fear the warriors of Regos and Coregos when these marvelous powers are yours?” “The powers are mine only while I have the pearls upon my person,” answered King Kitticut, “and I dare not carry them constantly for fear they might be lost. Therefore, I keep them safely hidden in this recess. My only danger lies in the chance that my watchmen might fail to discover the approach of our enemies and allow the warrior invaders to seize me before I could secure the pearls. I should, in that case, be quite powerless to resist. My father owned the magic pearls at the time of the Great Fight, of which you have so often heard, and the pink pearl protected him from harm, while the blue pearl enabled him and his people to drive away the enemy. Often have I suspected that the destroying storm was caused by the fairy mermaids, but that is a matter of which I have no proof.” “I have often wondered how we managed to win that battle,” remarked Inga thoughtfully. “But the pearls will assist us in case the warriors come again, will they not?” “They are as powerful as ever,” declared the King. “Really, my son, I have little to fear from any foe. But lest I die and the secret be lost to the next King, I have now given it into your keeping. Remember that these pearls are the rightful heritage of all Kings of Pingaree. If at any time I should be taken from you, Inga, guard this treasure well and do not forget where it is hidden.” “I shall not forget,” said Inga. Then the King returned the pearls to their hiding place and the boy went to his own room to ponder upon the wonderful secret his father had that day confided to his care. Chapter Two The Coming of King Rinkitink A few days after this, on a bright and sunny morning when the breeze blew soft and sweet from the ocean and the trees waved their leaf-laden branches, the Royal Watchman, whose duty it was to patrol the shore, came running to the King with news that a strange boat was approaching the island. At first the King was sore afraid and made a step toward the hidden pearls, but the next moment he reflected that one boat, even if filled with enemies, would be powerless to injure him, so he curbed his fear and went down to the beach to discover who the strangers might be. Many of the men of Pingaree assembled there also, and Prince Inga followed his father. Arriving at the water’s edge, they all stood gazing eagerly at the oncoming boat. It was quite a big boat, they observed, and covered with a canopy of purple silk, embroidered with gold. It was rowed by twenty men, ten on each side. As it came nearer, Inga could see that in the stern, seated upon a high, cushioned chair of state, was a little man who was so very fat that he was nearly as broad as he was high This man was dressed in a loose silken robe of purple that fell in folds to his feet, while upon his head was a cap of white velvet curiously worked with golden threads and having a circle of diamonds sewn around the band. At the opposite end of the boat stood an oddly shaped cage, and several large boxes of sandalwood were piled near the center of the craft. As the boat approached the shore the fat little man got upon his feet and bowed several times in the direction of those who had assembled to greet him, and as he bowed he flourished his white cap in an energetic manner. His face was round as an apple and nearly as rosy. When he stopped bowing he smiled in such a sweet and happy way that Inga thought he must be a very jolly fellow. The prow of the boat grounded on the beach, stopping its speed so suddenly that the little man was caught unawares and nearly toppled headlong into the sea. But he managed to catch hold of the chair with one hand and the hair of one of his rowers with the other, and so steadied himself. Then, again waving his jeweled cap around his head, he cried in a merry voice: “Well, here I am at last!” “So I perceive,” responded King Kitticut, bowing with much dignity. The fat man glanced at all the sober faces before him and burst into a rollicking laugh. Perhaps I should say it was half laughter and half a chuckle of merriment, for the sounds he emitted were quaint and droll and tempted every hearer to laugh with him. “Heh, heh — ho, ho, ho!” he roared. “Didn’t expect me, I see. Keek-eek-eek-eek! This is funny — it’s really funny. Didn’t know I was coming, did you? Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo! This is certainly amusing. But I’m here, just the same.” “Hush up!” said a deep, growling voice. “You’re making yourself ridiculous.” Everyone looked to see where this voice came from; but none could guess who had uttered the words of rebuke. The rowers of the boat were all solemn and silent and certainly no one on the shore had spoken. But the little man did not seem astonished in the least, or even annoyed. King Kitticut now addressed the stranger, saying courteously: “You are welcome to the Kingdom of Pingaree. Perhaps you will deign to come ashore and at your convenience inform us whom we have the honor of receiving as a guest.” “Thanks; I will,” returned the little fat man, waddling from his place in the boat and stepping, with some difficulty, upon the sandy beach. “I am King Rinkitink, of the City of Gilgad in the Kingdom of Rinkitink, and I have come to Pingaree to see for myself the monarch who sends to my city so many beautiful pearls. I have long wished to visit this island; and so, as I said before, here I am!” “I am pleased to welcome you,” said King Kitticut. “But why has Your Majesty so few attendants? Is it not dangerous for the King of a great country to make distant journeys in one frail boat, and with but twenty men?” “Oh, I suppose so,” answered King Rinkitink, with a laugh. “But what else could I do? My subjects would not allow me to go anywhere at all, if they knew it. So I just ran away.” “Ran away!” exclaimed King Kitticut in surprise. “Funny, isn’t it? Heh, heh, heh — woo, hoo!” laughed Rinkitink, and this is as near as I can spell with letters the jolly sounds of his laughter. “Fancy a King running away from his own ple — hoo, hoo — keek, eek, eek, eek! But I had to, don’t you see!” “Why?” asked the other King. “They’re afraid I’ll get into mischief. They don’t trust me. Keek-eek-eek — Oh, dear me! Don’t trust their own King. Funny, isn’t it?” “No harm can come to you on this island,” said Kitticut, pretending not to notice the odd ways of his guest. “And, whenever it pleases you to return to your own country, I will send with you a fitting escort of my own people. In the meantime, pray accompany me to my palace, where everything shall be done to make you comfortable and happy.” “Much obliged,” answered Rinkitink, tipping his white cap over his left ear and heartily shaking the hand of his brother monarch. “I’m sure you can make me comfortable if you’ve plenty to eat. And as for being happy — ha, ha, ha, ha! — why, that’s my trouble. I’m too happy. But stop! I’ve brought you some presents in those boxes. Please order your men to carry them up to the palace.” “Certainly,” answered King Kitticut, well pleased, and at once he gave his men the proper orders. “And, by the way,” continued the fat little King, “let them also take my goat from his cage.” “A goat!” exclaimed the King of Pingaree. “Exactly; my goat Bilbil. I always ride him wherever I go, for I’m not at all fond of walking, being a trifle stout — eh, Kitticut? — a trifle stout! Hoo, hoo, hoo-keek, eek!” The Pingaree people started to lift the big cage out of the boat, but just then a gruff voice cried: “Be careful, you villains!” and as the words seemed to come from the goat’s mouth the men were so astonished that they dropped the cage upon the sand with a sudden jar. “There! I told you so!” cried the voice angrily. “You’ve rubbed the skin off my left knee. Why on earth didn’t you handle me gently?” “There, there, Bilbil,” said King Rinkitink soothingly; “don’t scold, my boy. Remember that these are strangers, and we their guests.” Then he turned to Kitticut and remarked: “You have no talking goats on your island, I suppose.” “We have no goats at all,” replied the King; “nor have we any animals, of any sort, who are able to talk.” “I wish my animal couldn’t talk, either,” said Rinkitink, winking comically at Inga and then looking toward the cage. “He is very cross at times, and indulges in language that is not respectful. I thought, at first, it would be fine to have a talking goat, with whom I could converse as I rode about my city on his back; but — keek-eek-eek-eek! — the rascal treats me as if I were a chimney sweep instead of a King. Heh, heh, heh, keek, eek! A chimney sweep-hoo, hoo, hoo! — and me a King! Funny, isn’t it?” This last was addressed to Prince Inga, whom he chucked familiarly under the chin, to the boy’s great embarrassment. “Why do you not ride a horse?” asked King Kitticut. “I can’t climb upon his back, being rather stout; that’s why. Kee, kee, keek, eek! — rather stout — hoo, hoo, hoo!” He paused to wipe the tears of merriment from his eyes and then added: “But I can get on and off Bilbil’s back with ease.” He now opened the cage and the goat deliberately walked out and looked about him in a sulky manner. One of the rowers brought from the boat a saddle made of red velvet and beautifully embroidered with silver thistles, which he fastened upon the goat’s back. The fat King put his leg over the saddle and seated himself comfortably, saying: “Lead on, my noble host, and we will follow.” “What! Up that steep hill?” cried the goat. “Get off my back at once, Rinkitink, or I won’t budge a step. “But-consider, Bilbil,” remonstrated the King. “How am I to get up that hill unless I ride?” “Walk!” growled Bilbil. “But I’m too fat. Really, Bilbil, I’m surprised at you. Haven’t I brought you all this distance so you may see something of the world and enjoy life? And now you are so ungrateful as to refuse to carry me! Turn about is fair play, my boy. The boat carried you to this shore, because you can’t swim, and now you must carry me up the hill, because I can’t climb. Eh, Bilbil, isn’t that reasonable?” “Well, well, well,” said the goat, surlily, “keep quiet and I’ll carry you. But you make me very tired, Rinkitink, with your ceaseless chatter.” After making this protest Bilbil began walking up the hill, carrying the fat King upon his back with no difficulty whatever. Prince Inga and his father and all the men of Pingaree were much astonished to overhear this dispute between King Rinkitink and his goat; but they were too polite to make critical remarks in the presence of their guests. King Kitticut walked beside the goat and the Prince followed after, the men coming last with the boxes of sandalwood. When they neared the palace, the Queen and her maidens came out to meet them and the royal guest was escorted in state to the splendid throne room of the palace. Here the boxes were opened and King Rinkitink displayed all the beautiful silks and laces and jewelry with which they were filled. Every one of the courtiers and ladies received a handsome present, and the King and Queen had many rich gifts and Inga not a few. Thus the time passed pleasantly until the Chamberlain announced that dinner was served. Bilbil the goat declared that he preferred eating of the sweet, rich grass that grew abundantly in the palace grounds, and Rinkitink said that the beast could never bear being shut up in a stable; so they removed the saddle from his back and allowed him to wander wherever he pleased. During the dinner Inga divided his attention between admiring the pretty gifts he had received and listening to the jolly sayings of the fat King, who laughed when he was not eating and ate when he was not laughing and seemed to enjoy himself immensely. “For four days I have lived in that narrow boat,” said he, “with no other amusement than to watch the rowers and quarrel with Bilbil; so I am very glad to be on land again with such friendly and agreeable people.” “You do us great honor,” said King Kitticut, with a polite bow. “Not at all — not at all, my brother. This Pingaree must be a wonderful island, for its pearls are the admiration of all the world; nor will I deny the fact that my kingdom would be a poor one without the riches and glory it derives from the trade in your pearls. So I have wished for many years to come here to see you, but my people said: ‘No! Stay at home and behave yourself, or we’ll know the reason why.’” “Will they not miss Your Majesty from your palace at Gilgad?” inquired Kitticut. “I think not,” answered Rinkitink. “You see, one of my clever subjects has written a parchment entitled ‘How to be Good,’ and I believed it would benefit me to study it, as I consider the accomplishment of being good one of the fine arts. I had just scolded severely my Lord High Chancellor for coming to breakfast without combing his eyebrows, and was so sad and regretful at having hurt the poor man’s feelings that I decided to shut myself up in my own room and study the scroll until I knew how to be good — hee, heek, keek, eek, eek! –to be good! Clever idea, that, wasn’t it? Mighty clever! And I issued a decree that no one should enter my room, under pain of my royal displeasure, until I was ready to come out. They’re awfully afraid of my royal displeasure, although not a bit afraid of me. Then I put the parchment in my pocket and escaped through the back door to my boat — and here I am. Oo, hoo-hoo, keek-eek! Imagine the fuss there would be in Gilgad if my subjects knew where I am this very minute!” “I would like to see that parchment,” said the solemn-eyed Prince Inga, “for if it indeed teaches one to be good it must be worth its weight in pearls.” “Oh, it’s a fine essay,” said Rinkitink, “and beautifully written with a goosequill. Listen to this: You’ll enjoy it — tee, hee, hee! — enjoy it.” He took from his pocket a scroll of parchment tied with a black ribbon, and having carefully unrolled it, he proceeded to read as follows: “‘A Good Man is One who is Never Bad.’ How’s that, eh? Fine thought, what? ‘Therefore, in order to be Good, you must avoid those Things which are Evil.’ Oh, hoo-hoo-hoo! — how clever! When I get back I shall make the man who wrote that a royal hippolorum, for, beyond question, he is the wisest man in my kingdom -as he has often told me himself.” With this, Rinkitink lay back in his chair and chuckled his queer chuckle until he coughed, and coughed until he choked and choked until he sneezed. And he wrinkled his face in such a jolly, droll way that few could keep from laughing with him, and even the good Queen was forced to titter behind her fan. When Rinkitink had recovered from his fit of laughter and had wiped his eyes upon a fine lace handkerchief, Prince Inga said to him: “The parchment speaks truly.” “Yes, it is true beyond doubt,” answered Rinkitink, “and if I could persuade Bilbil to read it he would be a much better goat than he is now. Here is another selection: ‘To avoid saying Unpleasant Things, always Speak Agreeably.’ That would hit Bilbil, to a dot. And here is one that applies to you, my Prince: ‘Good Children are seldom punished, for the reason that they deserve no punishment.’ Now, I think that is neatly put, and shows the author to be a deep thinker. But the advice that has impressed me the most is in the following paragraph: ‘You may not find it as Pleasant to be Good as it is to be Bad, but Other People will find it more Pleasant.’ Haw-hoo-ho! keek-eek! ‘Other people will find it more pleasant!’ — hee, hee, heek, keek! — ‘more pleasant.’ Dear me — dear me! Therein lies a noble incentive to be good, and whenever I get time I’m surely going to try it.” Then he wiped his eyes again with the lace handkerchief and, suddenly remembering his dinner, seized his knife and fork and began eating. Chapter Three The Warriors from the North King Rinkitink was so much pleased with the Island of Pingaree that he continued his stay day after day and week after week, eating good dinners, talking with King Kitticut and sleeping. Once in a while he would read from his scroll. “For,” said he, “whenever I return home, my subjects will be anxious to know if I have learned ‘How to be Good,’ and I must not disappoint them.” The twenty rowers lived on the small end of the island, with the pearl fishers, and seemed not to care whether they ever returned to the Kingdom of Rinkitink or not. Bilbil the goat wandered over the grassy slopes, or among the trees, and passed his days exactly as he pleased. His master seldom cared to ride him. Bilbil was a rare curiosity to the islanders, but since there was little pleasure in talking with the goat they kept away from him. This pleased the creature, who seemed well satisfied to be left to his own devices. Once Prince Inga, wishing to be courteous, walked up to the goat and said: “Good morning, Bilbil.” “It isn’t a good morning,” answered Bilbil grumpily. “It is cloudy and damp, and looks like rain.” “I hope you are contented in our kingdom,” continued the boy, politely ignoring the other’s harsh words. “I’m not,” said Bilbil. “I’m never contented; so it doesn’t matter to me whether I’m in your kingdom or in some other kingdom. Go away — will you?” “Certainly,” answered the Prince, and after this rebuff he did not again try to make friends with Bilbil. Now that the King, his father, was so much occupied with his royal guest, Inga was often left to amuse himself, for a boy could not be allowed to take part in the conversation of two great monarchs. He devoted himself to his studies, therefore, and day after day he climbed into the branches of his favorite tree and sat for hours in his “tree-top rest,” reading his father’s precious manuscripts and thinking upon what he read. You must not think that Inga was a molly-coddle or a prig, because he was so solemn and studious. Being a King’s son and heir to a throne, he could not play with the other boys of Pingaree, and he lived so much in the society of the King and Queen, and was so surrounded by the pomp and dignity of a court, that he missed all the jolly times that boys usually have. I have no doubt that had he been able to live as other boys do, he would have been much like other boys; as it was, he was subdued by his surroundings, and more grave and thoughtful than one of his years should be. Inga was in his tree one morning when, without warning, a great fog enveloped the Island of Pingaree. The boy could scarcely see the tree next to that in which he sat, but the leaves above him prevented the dampness from wetting him, so he curled himself up in his seat and fell fast asleep. All that forenoon the fog continued. King Kitticut, who sat in his palace talking with his merry visitor, ordered the candles lighted, that they might be able to see one another. The good Queen, Inga’s mother, found it was too dark to work at her embroidery, so she called her maidens together and told them wonderful stories of bygone days, in order to pass away the dreary hours. But soon after noon the weather changed. The dense fog rolled away like a heavy cloud and suddenly the sun shot his bright rays over the island. “Very good!” exclaimed King Kitticut. “We shall have a pleasant afternoon, I am sure,” and he blew out the candles. Then he stood a moment motionless, as if turned to stone, for a terrible cry from without the palace reached his ears — a cry so full of fear and horror that the King’s heart almost stopped beating. Immediately there was a scurrying of feet as every one in the palace, filled with dismay, rushed outside to see what had happened. even fat little Rinkitink sprang from his chair and followed his host and the others through the arched vestibule. After many years the worst fears of King Kitticut were realized. Landing upon the beach, which was but a few steps from the palace itself, were hundreds of boats, every one filled with a throng of fierce warriors. They sprang upon the land with wild shouts of defiance and rushed to the King’s palace, waving aloft their swords and spears and battleaxes. King Kitticut, so completely surprised that he was bewildered, gazed at the approaching host with terror and grief. “They are the men of Regos and Coregos!” he groaned. “We are, indeed, lost!” Then he bethought himself, for the first time, of his wonderful pearls. Turning quickly, he ran back into the palace and hastened to the hall where the treasures were hidden. But the leader of the warriors had seen the King enter the palace and bounded after him, thinking he meant to escape. Just as the King had stooped to press the secret spring in the tiles, the warrior seized him from the rear and threw him backward upon the floor, at the same time shouting to his men to fetch ropes and bind the prisoner. This they did very quickly and King Kitticut soon found himself helplessly bound and in the power of his enemies. In this sad condition he was lifted by the warriors and carried outside, when the good King looked upon a sorry sight. The Queen and her maidens, the officers and servants of the royal household and all who had inhabited this end of the Island of Pingaree had been seized by the invaders and bound with ropes. At once they began carrying their victims to the boats, tossing them in as unceremoniously as if they had been bales of merchandise. The King looked around for his son Inga, but failed to find the boy among the prisoners. Nor was the fat King, Rinkitink, to be seen anywhere about. The warriors were swarming over the palace like bees in a hive, seeking anyone who might be in hiding, and after the search had been prolonged for some time the leader asked impatiently: “Do you find anyone else?” “No,” his men told him. “We have captured them all.” “Then,” commanded the leader, “remove everything of value from the palace and tear down its walls and towers, so that not one stone remains upon another!” While the warriors were busy with this task we will return to the boy Prince, who, when the fog lifted and the sun came out, wakened from his sleep and began to climb down from his perch in the tree. But the terrifying cries of the people, mingled with the shouts of the rude warriors, caused him to pause and listen eagerly. Then he climbed rapidly up the tree, far above his platform, to the topmost swaying branches. This tree, which Inga called his own, was somewhat taller than the other trees that surrounded it, and when he had reached the top he pressed aside the leaves and saw a great fleet of boats upon the shore — strange boats, with banners that he had never seen before. Turning to look upon his father’s palace, he found it surrounded by a horde of enemies. Then Inga knew the truth: that tile island had been invaded by the barbaric warriors from the north. He grew so faint from the terror of it all that he might have fallen had he not wound his arms around a limb and clung fast until the dizzy feeling passed away. Then with his sash he bound himself to the limb and again ventured to look out through the leaves. The warriors were now engaged in carrying King Kitticut and Queen Garee and all their other captives down to the boats, where they were thrown in and chained one to another. It was a dreadful sight for the Prince to witness, but he sat very still, concealed from the sight of anyone below by the bower of leafy branches around him. Inga knew very well that he could do nothing to help his beloved parents, and that if he came down he would only be forced to share their cruel fate. Now a procession of the Northmen passed between the boats and the palace, bearing the rich furniture, splendid draperies and rare ornaments of which the royal palace had been robbed, together with such food and other plunder as they could lay their hands upon. After this, the men of Regos and Coregos threw ropes around the marble domes and towers and hundreds of warriors tugged at these ropes until the domes and towers toppled and fell in ruins upon the ground. Then the walls themselves were torn down, till little remained of the beautiful palace but a vast heap of white marble blocks tumbled and scattered upon the ground. Prince Inga wept bitter tears of grief as he watched the ruin of his home; yet he was powerless to avert the destruction. When the palace had been demolished, some of the warriors entered their boats and rowed along the coast of the island, while the others marched in a great body down the length of the island itself. They were so numerous that they formed a line stretching from shore to shore and they destroyed every house they came to and took every inhabitant prisoner. The pearl fishers who lived at the lower end of the island tried to escape in their boats, but they were soon overtaken and made prisoners, like the others. Nor was there any attempt to resist the foe, for the sharp spears and pikes and swords of the invaders terrified the hearts of the defenseless people of Pingaree, whose sole weapons were their oyster rakes. When night fell the whole of the Island of Pingaree had been conquered by the men of the North, and all its people were slaves of the conquerors. Next morning the men of Regos and Coregos, being capable of no further mischief, departed from the scene of their triumph, carrying their prisoners with them and taking also every boat to be found upon the island. Many of the boats they had filled with rich plunder, with pearls and silks and velvets, with silver and gold ornaments and all the treasure that had made Pingaree famed as one of the richest kingdoms in the world. And the hundreds of slaves they had captured would be set to work in the mines of Regos and the grain fields of Coregos. So complete was the victory of the Northmen that it is no wonder the warriors sang songs of triumph as they hastened back to their homes. Great rewards were awaiting them when they showed the haughty King of Regos and the terrible Queen of Coregos the results of their ocean raid and conquest. Chapter Four The Deserted Island All through that terrible night Prince Inga remained hidden in his tree. In the morning he watched the great fleet of boats depart for their own country, carrying his parents and his countrymen with them, as well as everything of value the Island of Pingaree had contained. Sad, indeed, were the boy’s thoughts when the last of the boats had become a mere speck in the distance, but Inga did not dare leave his perch of safety until all of the craft of the invaders had disappeared beyond the horizon. Then he came down, very slowly and carefully, for he was weak from hunger and the long and weary watch, as he had been in the tree for twenty-four hours without food. The sun shone upon the beautiful green isle as brilliantly as if no ruthless invader had passed and laid it in ruins. The birds still chirped among the trees and the butterflies darted from flower to flower as happily as when the land was filled with a prosperous and contented people. Inga feared that only he was left of all his nation. Perhaps he might be obliged to pass his life there alone. He would not starve, for the sea would give him oysters and fish, and the trees fruit; yet the life that confronted him was far from enticing. The boy’s first act was to walk over to where the palace had stood and search the ruins until he found some scraps of food that had been overlooked by the enemy. He sat upon a block of marble and ate of this, and tears filled his eyes as he gazed upon the desolation around him. But Inga tried to bear up bravely, and having satisfied his hunger he walked over to the well, intending to draw a bucket of drinking water. Fortunately, this well had been overlooked by the invaders and the bucket was still fastened to the chain that wound around a stout wooden windlass. Inga took hold of the crank and began letting the bucket down into the well, when suddenly he was startled by a muffled voice crying out: “Be careful, up there!” The sound and the words seemed to indicate that the voice came from the bottom of the well, so Inga looked down. Nothing could be seen, on account of the darkness. “Who are you?” he shouted. “It’s I — Rinkitink,” came the answer, and the depths of the well echoed: “Tink-i-tink-i-tink!” in a ghostly manner. “Are you in the well?” asked the boy, greatly surprised. “Yes, and nearly drowned. I fell in while running from those terrible warriors, and I’ve been standing in this damp hole ever since, with my head just above the water. It’s lucky the well was no deeper, for had my head been under water, instead of above it — hoo, hoo, hoo, keek, eek! — under instead of over, you know — why, then I wouldn’t be talking to you now! Ha, hoo, hee!” And the well dismally echoed: “Ha, hoo, hee!” which you must imagine was a laugh half merry and half sad. “I’m awfully sorry,” cried the boy, in answer. “I wonder you have the heart to laugh at all. But how am I to get you out?” “I’ve been considering that all night,” said Rinkitink, “and I believe the best plan will be for you to let down the bucket to me, and I’ll hold fast to it while you wind up the chain and so draw me to the top.” “I will try to do that,” replied Inga, and he let the bucket down very carefully until he heard the King call out: “I’ve got it! Now pull me up — slowly, my boy, slowly — so I won’t rub against the rough sides.” Inga began winding up the chain, but King Rinkitink was so fat that he was very heavy and by the time the boy had managed to pull him halfway up the well his strength was gone. He clung to the crank as long as possible, but suddenly it slipped from his grasp and the next minute he heard Rinkitink fall “plump!” into the water again. “That’s too bad!” called Inga, in real distress; “but you were so heavy I couldn’t help it.” “Dear me!” gasped the King, from the darkness below, as he spluttered and coughed to get the water out of his mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going to let go?” “I hadn’t time,” said Inga, sorrowfully. “Well, I’m not suffering from thirst,” declared the King, “for there’s enough water inside me to float all the boats of Regos and Coregos or at least it feels that way. But never mind! So long as I’m not actually drowned, what does it matter?” “What shall we do next?” asked the boy anxiously. “Call someone to help you,” was the reply. “There is no one on the island but myself,” said the boy; “– excepting you,” he added, as an afterthought. “I’m not on it — more’s the pity! — but in it,” responded Rinkitink. “Are the warriors all gone?” “Yes,” said Inga, “and they have taken my father and mother, and all our people, to be their slaves,” he added, trying in vain to repress a sob. “So — so!” said Rinkitink softly; and then he paused a moment, as if in thought. Finally he said: “There are worse things than slavery, but I never imagined a well could be one of them. Tell me, Inga, could you let down some food to me? I’m nearly starved, and if you could manage to send me down some food I’d be well fed — hoo, hoo, heek, keek, eek! — well fed. Do you see the joke, Inga?” “Do not ask me to enjoy a joke just now, Your Majesty,” begged Inga in a sad voice; “but if you will be patient I will try to find something for you to eat.” He ran back to the ruins of the palace and began searching for bits of food with which to satisfy the hunger of the King, when to his surprise he observed the goat, Bilbil, wandering among the marble blocks. “What!” cried Inga. “Didn’t the warriors get you, either?” “If they had,” calmly replied Bilbil, “I shouldn’t be here.” “But how did you escape?” asked the boy. “Easily enough. I kept my mouth shut and stayed away from the rascals,” said the goat. “I knew that the soldiers would not care for a skinny old beast like me, for to the eye of a stranger I seem good for nothing. Had they known I could talk, and that my head contained more wisdom than a hundred of their own noddles, I might not have escaped so easily.” “Perhaps you are right,” said the boy. “I suppose they got the old man?” carelessly remarked Bilbil. “What old man?” “Rinkitink.” “Oh, no! His Majesty is at the bottom of the well,” said Inga, “and I don’t know how to get him out again.” “Then let him stay there,” suggested the goat. “That would be cruel. I am sure, Bilbil, that you are fond of the good King, your master, and do not mean what you say. Together, let us find some way to save poor King Rinkitink. He is a very jolly companion, and has a heart exceedingly kind and gentle.” “Oh, well; the old boy isn’t so bad, taken altogether,” admitted Bilbil, speaking in a more friendly tone. “But his bad jokes and fat laughter tire me dreadfully, at times.” Prince Inga now ran back to the well, the goat following more leisurely. “Here’s Bilbil!” shouted the boy to the King. “The enemy didn’t get him, it seems.” “That’s lucky for the enemy,” said Rinkitink. “But it’s lucky for me, too, for perhaps the beast can assist me out of this hole. If you can let a rope down the well, I am sure that you and Bilbil, pulling together, will be able to drag me to the earth’s surface.” “Be patient and we will make the attempt,” replied Inga encouragingly, and he ran to search. the ruins for a rope. Presently he found one that had been used by the warriors in toppling over the towers, which in their haste they had neglected to remove, and with some difficulty he untied the knots and carried the rope to the mouth of the well. Bilbil had lain down to sleep and the refrain of a merry song came in muffled tones from the well, proving that Rinkitink was making a patient endeavor to amuse himself. “I’ve found a rope!” Inga called down to him; and then the boy proceeded to make a loop in one end of the rope, for the King to put his arms through, and the other end he placed over the drum of the windlass. He now aroused Bilbil and fastened the rope firmly around the goat’s shoulders. “Are you ready?” asked the boy, leaning over the well. “I am,” replied the King. “And I am not,” growled the goat, “for I have not yet had my nap out. Old Rinki will be safe enough in the well until I’ve slept an hour or two longer.” “But it is damp in the well,” protested the boy, “and King Rinkitink may catch the rheumatism, so that he will have to ride upon your back wherever he goes.” Hearing this, Bilbil jumped up at once. “Let’s get him out,” he said earnestly. “Hold fast!” shouted Inga to the King. Then he seized the rope and helped Bilbil to pull. They soon found the task more difficult than they had supposed. Once or twice the King’s weight threatened to drag both the boy and the goat into the well, to keep Rinkitink company. But they pulled sturdily, being aware of this danger, and at last the King popped out of the hole and fell sprawling full length upon the ground. For a time he lay panting and breathing hard to get his breath back, while Inga and Bilbil were likewise worn out from their long strain at the rope; so the three rested quietly upon the grass and looked at one another in silence. Finally Bilbil said to the King: “I’m surprised at you. Why were you so foolish as to fall down that well? Don’t you know it’s a dangerous thing to do? You might have broken your neck in the fall, or been drowned in the water.” “Bilbil,” replied the King solemnly, “you’re a goat. Do you imagine I fell down the well on purpose?” “I imagine nothing,” retorted Bilbil. “I only know you were there.” “There? Heh-heh-heek-keek-eek! To be sure I was there,” laughed Rinkitink. “There in a dark hole, where there was no light; there in a watery well, where the wetness soaked me through and through — keek-eek-eek- eek! — through and through!” “How did it happen?” inquired Inga. “I was running away from the enemy,” explained the King, “and I was carelessly looking over my shoulder at the same time, to see if they were chasing me. So I did not see the well, but stepped into it and found myself tumbling down to the bottom. I struck the water very neatly and began struggling to keep myself from drowning, but presently I found that when I stood upon my feet on the bottom of the well, that my chin was just above the water. So I stood still and yelled for help; but no one heard me.” “If the warriors had heard you,” said Bilbil, “they would have pulled you out and carried you away to be a slave. Then you would have been obliged to work for a living, and that would be a new experience.” “Work!” exclaimed Rinkitink. “Me work? Hoo, hoo, heek-keek-eek! How absurd! I’m so stout — not to say chubby — not to say fat — that I can hardly walk, and I couldn’t earn my salt at hard work. So I’m glad the enemy did not find me, Bilbil. How many others escaped?” “That I do not know,” replied the boy, “for I have not yet had time to visit the other parts of the island. When you have rested and satisfied your royal hunger, it might be well for us to look around and see what the thieving warriors of Regos and Coregos have left us.” “An excellent idea,” declared Rinkitink. “I am somewhat feeble from my long confinement in the well, but I can ride upon Bilbil’s back and we may as well start at once.” Hearing this, Bilbil cast a surly glance at his master but said nothing, since it was really the goat’s business to carry King Rinkitink wherever he desired to go. They first searched the ruins of the palace, and where the kitchen had once been they found a small quantity of food that had been half hidden by a block of marble. This they carefully placed in a sack to preserve it for future use, the little fat King having first eaten as much as he cared for. This consumed some time, for Rinkitink had been exceedingly hungry and liked to eat in a leisurely manner. When he had finished the meal he straddled Bilbil’s back and set out to explore the island, Prince Inga walking by his side. They found on every hand ruin and desolation. The houses of the people had been pilfered of all valuables and then torn down or burned. Not a boat had been left upon the shore, nor was there a single person, man or woman or child, remaining upon the island, save themselves. The only inhabitants of Pingaree now consisted of a fat little King, a boy and a goat. Even Rinkitink, merry hearted as he was, found it hard to laugh in the face of this mighty disaster. Even the goat, contrary to its usual habit, refrained from saying anything disagreeable. As for the poor boy whose home was now a wilderness, the tears came often to his eyes as he marked the ruin of his dearly loved island. When, at nightfall, they reached the lower end of Pingaree and found it swept as bare as the rest, Inga’s grief was almost more than he could bear. Everything had been swept from him — parents, home and country — in so brief a time that his bewilderment was equal to his sorrow. Since no house remained standing, in which they might sleep, the three wanderers crept beneath the overhanging branches of a cassa tree and curled themselves up as comfortably as possible. So tired and exhausted were they by the day’s anxieties and griefs that their troubles soon faded into the mists of dreamland. Beast and King and boy slumbered peacefully together until wakened by the singing of the birds which greeted the dawn of a new day. Chapter Five The Three Pearls When King Rinkitink and Prince Inga had bathed themselves in the sea and eaten a simple breakfast, they began wondering what they could do to improve their condition. “The poor people of Gilgad,” said Rinkitink cheerfully, “are little likely ever again to behold their King in the flesh, for my boat and my rowers are gone with everything else. Let us face the fact that we are imprisoned for life upon this island, and that our lives will be short unless we can secure more to eat than is in this small sack.” “I’ll not starve, for I can eat grass,” remarked the goat in a pleasant tone — or a tone as pleasant as Bilbil could assume. “True, quite true,” said the King. Then he seemed thoughtful for a moment and turning to Inga he asked: “Do you think, Prince, that if the worst comes, we could eat Bilbil?” The goat gave a groan and cast a reproachful look at his master as he said: “Monster! Would you, indeed, eat your old friend and servant?” “Not if I can help it, Bilbil,” answered the King pleasantly. “You would make a remarkably tough morsel, and my teeth are not as good as they once were. While this talk was in progress Inga suddenly remembered the three pearls which his father had hidden under the tiled floor of the banquet hall. Without doubt King Kitticut had been so suddenly surprised by the invaders that he had found no opportunity to get the pearls, for otherwise the fierce warriors would have been defeated and driven out of Pingaree. So they must still be in their hiding place, and Inga believed they would prove of great assistance to him and his comrades in this hour of need. But the palace was a mass of ruins; perhaps he would be unable now to find the place where the pearls were hidden. He said nothing of this to Rinkitink, remembering that his father had charged him to preserve the secret of the pearls and of their magic powers. Nevertheless, the thought of securing the wonderful treasures of his ancestors gave the boy new hope. He stood up and said to the King: “Let us return to the other end of Pingaree. It is more pleasant than here in spite of the desolation of my father’s palace. And there, if anywhere, we shall discover a way out of our difficulties.” This suggestion met with Rinkitink’s approval and the little party at once started upon the return journey. As there was no occasion to delay upon the way, they reached the big end of the island about the middle of the day and at once began searching the ruins of the palace. They found, to their satisfaction, that one room at the bottom of a tower was still habitable, although the roof was broken in and the place was somewhat littered with stones. The King was, as he said, too fat to do any hard work, so he sat down on a block of marble and watched Inga clear the room of its rubbish. This done, the boy hunted through the ruins until he discovered a stool and an armchair that had not been broken beyond use. Some bedding and a mattress were also found, so that by nightfall the little room had been made quite comfortable The following morning, while Rinkitink was still sound asleep and Bilbil was busily cropping the dewy grass that edged the shore, Prince Inga began to search the tumbled heaps of marble for the place where the royal banquet hall had been. After climbing over the ruins for a time he reached a flat place which he recognized, by means of the tiled flooring and the broken furniture scattered about, to be the great hall he was seeking. But in the center of the floor, directly over the spot where the pearls were hidden, lay several large and heavy blocks of marble, which had been torn from the dismantled walls. This unfortunate discovery for a time discouraged the boy, who realized how helpless he was to remove such vast obstacles; but it was so important to secure the pearls that he dared not give way to despair until every human effort had been made, so he sat him down to think over the matter with great care. Meantime Rinkitink had risen from his bed and walked out upon the lawn, where he found Bilbil reclining at ease upon the greensward. “Where is Inga?” asked Rinkitink, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles because their vision was blurred with too much sleep. “Don’t ask me,” said the goat, chewing with much satisfaction a cud of sweet grasses. “Bilbil,” said the King, squatting down beside the goat and resting his fat chin upon his hands and his elbows on his knees, “allow me to confide to you the fact that I am bored, and need amusement. My good friend Kitticut has been kidnapped by the barbarians and taken from me, so there is no one to converse with me intelligently. I am the King and you are the goat. Suppose you tell me a story. “Suppose I don’t,” said Bilbil, with a scowl, for a goat’s face is very expressive. “If you refuse, I shall be more unhappy than ever, and I know your disposition is too sweet to permit that. Tell me a story, Bilbil.” The goat looked at him with an expression of scorn. Said he: “One would think you are but four years old, Rinkitink! But there — I will do as you command. Listen carefully, and the story may do you some good — although I doubt if you understand the moral.” “I am sure the story will do me good,” declared the King, whose eyes were twinkling. “Once on a time,” began the goat. “When was that, Bilbil?” asked the King gently. “Don’t interrupt; it is impolite. Once on a time there was a King with a hollow inside his head, where most people have their brains, and –“ “Is this a true story, Bilbil?” “And the King with a hollow head could chatter words, which had no sense, and laugh in a brainless manner at senseless things. That part of the story is true enough, Rinkitink.” “Then proceed with the tale, sweet Bilbil. Yet it is hard to believe that any King could be brainless — unless, indeed, he proved it by owning a talking goat.” Bilbil glared at him a full minute in silence. Then he resumed his story: “This empty-headed man was a King by accident, having been born to that high station. Also the King was empty-headed by the same chance, being born without brains.” “Poor fellow!” quoth the King. “Did he own a talking goat?” “He did,” answered Bilbil. “Then he was wrong to have been born at all. Cheek- eek-eek-eek, oo, hoo!” chuckled Rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. “But it’s hard to prevent oneself from being born; there’s no chance for protest, eh, Bilbil?” “Who is telling this story, I’d like to know,” demanded the goat, with anger. “Ask someone with brains, my boy; I’m sure I can’t tell,” replied the King, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter. Bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving Rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal’s face. “Oh, Bilbil, you’ll be the death of me, some day — I’m sure you will!” gasped the King, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes; for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came. Bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his master. To escape from Rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the palace, where he came upon Prince Inga. “Good morning, Bilbil,” said the boy. “I was just going to find you, that I might consult you upon an important matter. If you will kindly turn back with me I am sure your good judgment will be of great assistance.” The angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he was addressed, but he immediately asked: “Are you also going to consult that empty-headed King over yonder?” “I am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way,” said the boy gravely. “All men are deserving of respect, being the highest of living creatures, and Kings deserve respect more than others, for they are set to rule over many people.” “Nevertheless,” said Bilbil with conviction, “Rinkitink’s head is certainly empty of brains.” “That I am unwilling to believe,” insisted Inga. “But anyway his heart is kind and gentle and that is better than being wise. He is merry in spite of misfortunes that would cause others to weep and he never speaks harsh words that wound the feelings of his friends.” “Still,” growled Bilbil, “he is –“ “Let us forget everything but his good nature, which puts new heart into us when we are sad,” advised the boy.” “But he is –“ “Come with me, please,” interrupted Inga, “for the matter of which I wish to speak is very important.” Bilbil followed him, although the boy still heard the goat muttering that the King had no brains. Rinkitink, seeing them turn into the ruins, also followed, and upon joining them asked for his breakfast. Inga opened the sack of food and while he and the King ate of it the boy said: “If I could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which have fallen in the banquet hall, I think I could find means for us to escape from this barren island.” “Then,” mumbled Rinkitink, with his mouth full, “let us move the blocks of marble.” “But how?” inquired Prince Inga. “They are very heavy.” “Ah, how, indeed?” returned the King, smacking his lips contentedly. “That is a serious question. But — I have it! Let us see what my famous parchment says about it.” He wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then, taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he unrolled it and read the following words: ‘Never step on another man’s toes.’ The goat gave a snort of contempt; Inga was silent; the King looked from one to the other inquiringly. “That’s the idea, exactly!” declared Rinkitink. “To be sure,” said Bilbil scornfully, “it tells us exactly how to move the blocks of marble.” “Oh, does it?” responded the King, and then for a moment he rubbed the top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. The next moment he burst into a peal of joyous laughter. The goat looked at Inga and sighed. “What did I tell you?” asked the creature. “Was I right, or was I wrong?” “This scroll,” said Rinkitink, “is indeed a masterpiece. Its advice is of tremendous value. ‘Never step on another man’s toes.’ Let us think this over. The inference is that we should step upon our own toes, which were given us for that purpose. Therefore, if I stepped upon another man’s toes, I would be the other man. Hoo, hoo, hoo! — the other man — hee, hee, heek- keek-eek! Funny, isn’t it?” “Didn’t I say –” began Bilbil. “No matter what you said, my boy,” roared the King. “No fool could have figured that out as nicely as I did.” “We have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble,” suggested Inga anxiously. “Fasten a rope to them, and pull,” said Bilbil. “Don’t pay any more attention to Rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the man who wrote that brainless scroll. Just get the rope, and we’ll fasten Rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and I’ll help you pull.” “Thank you, Bilbil,” replied the boy. “I’ll get the rope at once. Bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it makes the attempt, so Bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little Rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath. Inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then made a loop at the other end to go over Bilbil’s head. When all was ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place. Seeing this, King Rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where it had lain. But it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before undertaking the removal of the next block. “Admit, Bilbil,” said the King, “that I am of some use in the world.” “Your weight was of considerable help,” acknowledged the goat, “but if your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still easier.” When Inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the tile with the secret spring. So the three pulled with renewed energy and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving Inga free to remove the treasure when he pleased. But the boy had no intention of allowing Bilbil and the King to share the secret of the royal treasures of Pingaree; so, although both the goat and its master demanded to know why the marble blocks had been moved, and how it would benefit them, Inga begged them to wait until the next morning, when he hoped to be able to satisfy them that their hard work had not been in vain. Having little confidence in this promise of a mere boy, the goat grumbled and the King laughed; but Inga paid no heed to their ridicule and set himself to work rigging up a fishing rod, with line and hook. During the afternoon he waded out to some rocks near the shore and fished patiently until he had captured enough yellow perch for their supper and breakfast. “Ah,” said Rinkitink, looking at the fine catch when Inga returned to the shore; “these will taste delicious when they are cooked; but do you know how to cook them?” “No,” was the reply. I have often caught fish, but never cooked them. Perhaps Your Majesty understands cooking.” “Cooking and majesty are two different things,” laughed the little King. “I could not cook a fish to save me from starvation.” “For my part,” said Bilbil, “I never eat fish, but I can tell you how to cook them, for I have often watched the palace cooks at their work.” And so, with the goat’s assistance, the boy and the King managed to prepare the fish and cook them, after which they were eaten with good appetite. That night, after Rinkitink and Bilbil were both fast asleep, Inga stole quietly through the moonlight to the desolate banquet hall. There, kneeling down, he touched the secret spring as his father had instructed him to do and to his joy the tile sank downward and disclosed the opening. You may imagine how the boy’s heart throbbed with excitement as he slowly thrust his hand into the cavity and felt around to see if the precious pearls were still there. In a moment his fingers touched the silken bag and, without pausing to close the recess, he pressed the treasure against his breast and ran out into the moonlight to examine it. When he reached a bright place he started to open the bag, but he observed Bilbil lying asleep upon the grass near by. So, trembling with the fear of discovery, he ran to another place, and when he paused he heard Rinkitink snoring lustily. Again he fled and made his way to the seashore, where he squatted under a bank and began to untie the cords that fastened the mouth of the bag. But now another fear assailed him. “If the pearls should slip from my hand,” he thought, “and roll into the water, they might be lost to me forever. I must find some safer place.” Here and there he wandered, still clasping the silken bag in both hands, and finally he went to the grove and climbed into the tall tree where he had made his platform and seat. But here it was pitch dark, so he found he must wait patiently until morning before he dared touch the pearls. During those hours of waiting he had time for reflection and reproached himself for being so frightened by the possession of his father’s treasures. “These pearls have belonged to our family for generations,” he mused, “yet no one has ever lost them. If I use ordinary care I am sure I need have no fears for their safety.” When the dawn came and he could see plainly, Inga opened the bag and took out the Blue Pearl. There was no possibility of his being observed by others, so he took time to examine it wonderingly, saying to himself: “This will give me strength.” Taking off his right shoe he placed the Blue Pearl within it, far up in the pointed toe. Then he tore a piece from his handkerchief and stuffed it into the shoe to hold the pearl in place. Inga’s shoes were long and pointed, as were all the shoes worn in Pingaree, and the points curled upward, so that there was quite a vacant space beyond the place where the boy’s toes reached when the shoe was upon his foot. After he had put on the Shoe and laced it up he opened the bag and took out the Pink Pearl. “This will protect me from danger,” said Inga, and removing the shoe from his left foot he carefully placed the pearl in the hollow toe. This, also, he secured in place by means of a strip torn from his handkerchief. Having put on the second shoe and laced it up, the boy drew from the silken bag the third pearl — that which was pure white — and holding it to his ear he asked. “Will you advise me what to do, in this my hour of misfortune?” Clearly the small voice of the pearl made answer: “I advise you to go to the Islands of Regos and Coregos, where you may liberate your parents from slavery.” “How could I do that?” exclaimed Prince Inga, amazed at receiving such advice. “To-night,” spoke the voice of the pearl, “there will be a storm, and in the morning a boat will strand upon the shore. Take this boat and row to Regos and Coregos.” “How can I, a weak boy, pull the boat so far?” he inquired, doubting the possibility. “The Blue Pearl will give you strength,” was the reply. “But I may be shipwrecked and drowned, before ever I reach Regos and Coregos,” protested the boy. “The Pink Pearl will protect you from harm,” murmured the voice, soft and low but very distinct. “Then I shall act as you advise me,” declared Inga, speaking firmly because this promise gave him courage, and as he removed the pearl from his ear it whispered: “The wise and fearless are sure to win success.” Restoring the White Pearl to the depths of the silken bag, Inga fastened it securely around his neck and buttoned his waist above it to hide the treasure from all prying eyes. Then he slowly climbed down from the tree and returned to the room where King Rinkitink still slept. The goat was browsing upon the grass but looked cross and surly. When the boy said good morning as he passed, Bilbil made no response whatever. As Inga entered the room the King awoke and asked: “What is that mysterious secret of yours? I’ve been dreaming about it, and I haven’t got my breath yet from tugging at those heavy blocks. Tell me the secret.” “A secret told is no longer a secret,” replied Inga, with a laugh. “Besides, this is a family secret, which it is proper I should keep to myself. But I may tell you one thing, at least: We are going to leave this island to-morrow morning.” The King seemed puzzled’ by this statement. “I’m not much of a swimmer,” said he, “and, though I’m fat enough to float upon the surface of the water, I’d only bob around and get nowhere at all.” “We shall not swim, but ride comfortably in a boat,” promised Inga. “There isn’t a boat on this island!” declared Rinkitink, looking upon the boy with wonder. “True,” said Inga. “But one will come to us in the morning.” He spoke positively, for he had perfect faith in the promise of the White Pearl; but Rinkitink, knowing nothing of the three marvelous jewels, began to fear that the little Prince had lost his mind through grief and misfortune. For this reason the King did not question the boy further but tried to cheer him by telling him witty stories. He laughed at all the stories himself, in his merry, rollicking way, and Inga joined freely in the laughter because his heart had been lightened by the prospect of rescuing his dear parents. Not since the fierce warriors had descended upon Pingaree had the boy been so hopeful and happy. With Rinkitink riding upon Bilbil’s back, the three made a tour of the island and found in the central part some bushes and trees bearing ripe fruit. They gathered this freely, for — aside from the fish which Inga caught — it was the only food they now had, and the less they had, the bigger Rinkitink’s appetite seemed to grow. “I am never more happy,” said he with a sigh, “than when I am eating.” Toward evening the sky became overcast and soon a great storm began to rage. Prince Inga and King Rinkitink took refuge within the shelter of the room they had fitted up and there Bilbil joined them. The goat and the King were somewhat disturbed by the violence of the storm, but Inga did not mind it, being pleased at this evidence that the White Pearl might be relied upon. All night the wind shrieked around the island; thunder rolled, lightning flashed and rain came down in torrents. But with morning the storm abated and when the sun arose no sign of the tempest remained save a few fallen trees. Chapter Six The Magic Boat Prince Inga was up with the sun and, accompanied by Bilbil, began walking along the shore in search of the boat which the White Pearl had promised him. Never for an instant did he doubt that he would find it and before he had walked any great distance a dark object at the water’s edge caught his eye. “It is the boat, Bilbil!” he cried joyfully, and running down to it he found it was, indeed, a large and roomy boat. Although stranded upon the beach, it was in perfect order and had suffered in no way from the storm. Inga stood for some moments gazing upon the handsome craft and wondering where it could have come from. Certainly it was unlike any boat he had ever seen. On the outside it was painted a lustrous black, without any other color to relieve it; but all the inside of the boat was lined with pure silver, polished so highly that the surface resembled a mirror and glinted brilliantly in the rays of the sun. The seats had white velvet cushions upon them and the cushions were splendidly embroidered with threads of gold. At one end, beneath the broad seat, was a small barrel with silver hoops, which the boy found was filled with fresh, sweet water. A great chest of sandalwood, bound and ornamented with silver, stood in the other end of the boat. Inga raised the lid and discovered the chest filled with sea-biscuits, cakes, tinned meats and ripe, juicy melons; enough good and wholesome food to last the party a long time. Lying upon the bottom of the boat were two shining oars, and overhead, but rolled back now, was a canopy of silver cloth to ward off the heat of the sun. It is no wonder the boy was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful boat; but on reflection he feared it was too large for him to row any great distance. Unless, indeed, the Blue Pearl gave him unusual strength. While he was considering this matter, King Rinkitink came waddling up to him and said: “Well, well, well, my Prince, your words have come true! Here is the boat, for a certainty, yet how it came here — and how you knew it would come to us — are puzzles that mystify me. I do not question our good fortune, however, and my heart is bubbling with joy, for in this boat I will return at once to my City of Gilgad, from which I have remained absent altogether too long a time.” “I do not wish to go to Gilgad,” said Inga. “That is too bad, my friend, for you would be very welcome. But you may remain upon this island, if you wish,” continued Rinkitink, “and when I get home I will send some of my people to rescue you.” “It is my boat, Your Majesty,” said Inga quietly. “May be, may be,” was the careless answer, “but I am King of a great country, while you are a boy Prince without any kingdom to speak of. Therefore, being of greater importance than you, it is just and right that I take, your boat and return to my own country in it.” “I am sorry to differ from Your Majesty’s views,” said Inga, “but instead of going to Gilgad I consider it of greater importance that we go to the islands of Regos and Coregos.” “Hey? What!” cried the astounded King. “To Regos and Coregos! To become slaves of the barbarians, like the King, your father? No, no, my boy! Your Uncle Rinki may have an empty noddle, as Bilbil claims, but he is far too wise to put his head in the lion’s mouth. It’s no fun to be a slave.” “The people of Regos and Coregos will not enslave us,” declared Inga. “On the contrary, it is my intention to set free my dear parents, as well as all my people, and to bring them back again to Pingaree.” “Cheek-eek-eek-eek-eek! How funny!” chuckled Rinkitink, winking at the goat, which scowled in return. “Your audacity takes my breath away, Inga, but the adventure has its charm, I must, confess. Were I not so fat, I’d agree to your plan at once, and could probably conquer that horde of fierce warriors without any assistance at all — any at all — eh, Bilbil? But I grieve to say that I am fat, and not in good fighting trim. As for your determination to do what I admit I can’t do, Inga, I fear you forget that you are only a boy, and rather small at that.” “No, I do not forget that,” was Inga’s reply. “Then please consider that you and I and Bilbil are not strong enough, as an army, to conquer a powerful nation of skilled warriors. We could attempt it, of course, but you are too young to die, while I am too old. Come with me to my City of Gilgad, where you will be greatly honored. I’ll have my professors teach you how to be good. Eh? What do you say?”