XXIVOUT OF HIDING
NOW we must return to the toothless old villain. Do you remember, we left him dozing snugly in his hiding place atop the roof of a deserted house? He was waiting for the gray dusk, when he might steal out upon his wicked business. Perhaps it was the King himself he wished to harm, this visit—but I can’t be positive of that.
Anyhow, when night had come and the streets were bare again of people and little dim lanterns were swinging in the shadows of the balconies, the old wizard crept down the stairs again, into the black vestibule. Then out he darted—out into the street.
“The windows in the palace were gleaming”
“The windows in the palace were gleaming”
“The windows in the palace were gleaming”
The windows in the palace, across the narrow street, were gleaming with bright cheer and threw big yellow squaresof light across the cobbled gutters. The old villain, when he stood a-tiptoe, could see the gilded walls and the jeweled ceilings. He caught just a glimpse of a corner of the throne itself, all in a glory of precious stones and carvings. And once he thought he could make out the shadow of a man all decked in royal robes—and a crown on his head.
The wizard trembled and growled at this sight of his ancient enemy. He raised his crooked finger threateningly in the dark and snarled a terrible oath. Then he sped on, up one gloomy, lonely alley and down the other, across wide boulevards and empty squares, dodging into the shadows at every sudden creak of a shutter or rustle of a tree. Once a company of soldiers marched past him—left, right, left, right, with weary, lagging steps. He had just time to slink out of their way and flee into a little court-yard, darker than the cloudy sky—blacker than black itself. He could see nothing here. He groped, he stumbled, he felt his way warily. Just ahead of him he heard a strange gurgling of water, low and soft, as if from a distance. He stopped short, bewildered.
Then it seemed as if the tramp of those soldiers from whom he was fleeing was growing louder—that they were coming nearer and nearer. Had they discovered his whereabouts? Were they chasing him now?
He could not keep his toothless gums from chattering. In fear he rushed forward in the darkness. A couple of wild steps and—down he went! Down through a greatsewer hole! Down, down, below the street, into the rushing, roaring water which was sweeping through the great brick tube of the underground sewer!
Whiz! What a roar! Whiz! What a rush and dash and smother of gurgling, thundering water! The old magician was swept swiftly along with the stream. He sank, rose again, coughed, sputtered, sank again. Then, as he rose a second time, he took a long breath and lay quite still. Yes, he was floating! He would not drown here, anyhow!
As he sped along, lying on his back atop the rushing water, with his gums tight shut and his eyes wide open to the dark, he wondered where he was floating. Where was this water rushing? Where did the great sewer end?
Then, of a sudden, the roar of the water grew louder than ever. He shot out, out into space—and then down, down, into the gushing spray of a waterfall. Then down, deep down, under the surface—and up again. He beat his hands frantically about in the churning froth. He shook the water from his eyes. Where had the great tube emptied him? Where was he?
Why, in the sea, to be sure—in the sea!