XXIIPETERKIN IN A MUDDLE
“AND so it is the toothless farmer who has caused all this misery in each of the four valleys,” mused Peterkin, as he floated along at the side of Pater Familias. “Well, here’s my solemn oath on it: I shall have revenge on him, and force him to substitute joy for sorrow in each of these stricken kingdoms.”
Then he bade farewell to the People-Up-in-the-Air and floated away on the breath of the air—away to the boundaries of their land.
But it was not high mountains and snowy cliffs which hemmed this valley from its neighbors. Instead, the landbelow grew flatter and more yellow. Peterkin passed over wide, misty stretches of marsh and bogs; in the distance he could hear the faint roar of waves. Yes, he was coming to the sea. He was drifting fast toward that golden line of sands where the ocean met the land in a jagged, wavering line of frothy white.
He must swoop down to earth now—else he might be carried out into midwater. He must set foot upon the ground! But alas! try as he would, he was still in the Land of Up-in-the-Air—and up in the air he must stay!
Then he thought of his precious bottle of the Water of Bounceability. Perhaps, if he took a sip, he might be able to break the spell and to leap to the marshes below. He would try it.
He took out the bottle and uncorked it. He lifted it to his lips and let half of what remained in it gurgle down his throat. Then down he dived, head first. Down, down—yes, the spell was broken! Down to earth, just where thenarrow strip of sands met the straggly marshes. He landed with a mighty somersault, roly-poly, into the muddy bog. He rolled over and over, crashing through the slimy rushes and the sand, to where the waves were churning. He was sprawling face downward, dizzy and dazed. He staggered to his feet, looking about him mournfully.
“All sea and sand and dreary marsh,” he sighed. “Over there, lost in the blue of the sea, must be the city whence I set out—the city of Princess Clem. Well, I shall have to finish my bottle of Water of Bounceability now—and fly in that direction.”
So he groped in his pockets for the bottle. But oh, the saddest of all things had happened now! He found the bottle broken—and the water all spilled and wasted!
Aye, his fall had smashed the precious vial—and there was no more of the magic liquid left to carry him home!
What now? Peterkin looked mournfully out across the blue sea, towards where the city of the palace and the Princess Clem must lie; then he looked back across the marsh, where poisonous mists were gathering in low, curling clouds; he searched the shore in vain for the trace of anything or anybody.... No, he was alone and helpless!
Ah, well, he did not know the great surprise which was in store for him!