XXIIITHE LOST PUMPERKIN
AND what do you think that surprise was?
The Pumperkin! Yes, his old, long-lost Pumperkin!
Peterkin caught his first, golden glimpse of it as it came up over the distant horizon. It was floating in on the tide from the far mid-ocean. It was dipping slowly, peacefully from one rippling wave to the next; it came up to the shore at last, bobbing in the surf, then pitching down with a last lurch into the soggy marsh.
Peterkin ran to it. Yes, there could be no doubt—it was his beloved Pumperkin, his old home—his boat-house of a pumpkin which had been torn away from him by the tempest wind.... He scaled up the side and peeked in through the ceiling window. Yes, all was as he had left it. There was his tumbled bed in the corner, there were the chairs, legs up. And there, sure enough, was his ladder, with its top peeping up above the edge of the roof. All that was missing was the cook-stove.
Peterkin climbed over the edge and down the ladder. He was safe now. He was hopeful and happy. He had only to push and shove a little bit and—away, away he went, bound for the home of his Princess Clem!
How good it seemed to be in his pumpkin house again! He wondered how many seas it had passed over, whither it had wandered, where it would lead him now. For, of course, there was no such a thing as steering these roly-poly pumpkins: wherever it floated, Peterkin must float along!
Away it sailed, over the waves, in the clutch of the lazy tide. Away, until the marshes and the golden strand were lost in a hazy mist. Up one wave and down the next, with the spray dashing in through the ceiling window. How like the first few days it all was—those first few days of the marvellous adventures. Peterkin smiled to think of them,and of how many wonderful things had happened to him since first his house was torn from his stem in the pumpkin patch.
And now he was on his way to the most thrilling adventure of them all. He was bound for the city from which he had been banished; he was returning either to his happiness or to his death. As he looked out across the waves, he wondered how it would all end; was he going to find that toothless old villain? Was he going to bring back joy into the Four Kingdoms, and a smile to the lips of their monarch? Was he going to win the hand of the gracious Princess Clem? Or, after all, would the whole search and struggle end with his being captured and put to death? Or with the toothless villain murdering him? Well, he swore he should put up a hard fight.... For he knew a way to bring this cruel enemy to his knees. At least, he thought he did!
So he sat and thought it all out, while his pumpkin boat sailed closer and closer to the other shore. Do you know what was on that shore?
Why, a city, of course! The very city for which our Peterkin so dearly yearned. The city of the golden palace—and of the Princess Clem!
And the city where he would find the toothless farmer! Perhaps Peterkin guessed that much ... for his cheeks grew a little white as he watched the distant spires and golden dome, all agleam in the sunset.