In a few minutes, however, they saw the spark of light again, and as the sailor still held the second lighted candle the Ork made straight toward them.It was only a few yards distant when suddenly it dropped the candle with a cry of pain and next moment alighted, fluttering wildly, upon the rocky ledge.
“What’s the matter?” asked Trot.
“It bit me!” wailed the Ork. “I don’t like your candles. The thing began to disappear slowly as soon as I took it in my claw, and it grew smaller and smaller until just now it turned and bit me—a most unfriendly thing to do. Oh—oh! Ouch, what a bite!”
“That’s the nature of candles, I’m sorry to say,” explained Cap’n Bill, with a grin. “You have to handle ’em mighty keerful. But tell us, what did you find down there?”
“I found a way to continue our journey,” said the Ork, nursing tenderly the claw which had been burned. “Just below us is a great lake of black water, which looked so cold and wicked that it made me shudder; but away at the left there’s a big tunnel, which we can easily walk through. I don’t know where it leads to, of course, but we must follow it and find out.”
“Why, we can’t get to it,” protested the little girl. “We can’t fly, as you do, you must remember.”
“No, that’s true,” replied the Ork musingly.
“Your bodies are built very poorly, it seems to me, since all you can do is crawl upon the earth’s surface. But you may ride upon my back, and in that way I can promise you a safe journey to the tunnel.”
“Are you strong enough to carry us?” asked Cap’n Bill, doubtfully.
“Yes, indeed; I’m strong enough to carry a dozen of you, if you could find a place to sit,” was the reply; “but there’s only room between my wings for one at a time, so I’ll have to make two trips.”
“All right; I’ll go first,” decided Cap’n Bill.
He lit another candle for Trot to hold while they were gone and to light the Ork on his return to her, and then the old sailor got upon the Ork’s back, where he sat with his wooden leg sticking straight out sidewise.
“If you start to fall, clasp your arms around my neck,” advised the creature.
“If I start to fall, it’s good night an’ pleasant dreams,” said Cap’n Bill.
“All ready?” asked the Ork.
“Start the buzz-tail,” said Cap’n Bill, with a tremble in his voice. But the Ork flew away so gently that the old man never even tottered in his seat.
Trot watched the light of Cap’n Bill’s candle tillit disappeared in the far distance. She didn’t like to be left alone on this dangerous ledge, with a lake of black water hundreds of feet below her; but she was a brave little girl and waited patiently for the return of the Ork. It came even sooner than she had expected and the creature said to her:
“Your friend is safe in the tunnel. Now, then, get aboard and I’ll carry you to him in a jiffy.”
I’m sure not many little girls would have cared to take that awful ride through the huge black cavern on the back of a skinny Ork. Trot didn’t care for it, herself, but it just had to be done and so she did it as courageously as possible. Her heart beat fast and she was so nervous she could scarcely hold the candle in her fingers as the Ork sped swiftly through the darkness.
It seemed like a long ride to her, yet in reality the Ork covered the distance in a wonderfully brief period of time and soon Trot stood safely beside Cap’n Bill on the level floor of a big arched tunnel. The sailor-man was very glad to greet his little comrade again and both were grateful to the Ork for his assistance.
“I dunno where this tunnel leads to,” remarked Cap’n Bill, “but it surely looks more promisin’ than that other hole we crept through.”
“When the Ork is rested,” said Trot, “we’ll travel on and see what happens.”
“Rested!” cried the Ork, as scornfully as his shrill voice would allow. “That bit of flying didn’t tire me at all. I’m used to flying days at a time, without ever once stopping.”
“Then let’s move on,” proposed Cap’n Bill. He still held in his hand one lighted candle, so Trot blew out the other flame and placed her candle in the sailor’s big pocket. She knew it was not wise to burn two candles at once.
The tunnel was straight and smooth and very easy to walk through, so they made good progress. Trot thought that the tunnel began about two miles from the cavern where they had been cast by the whirlpool, but now it was impossible to guess the miles traveled, for they walked steadily for hours and hours without any change in their surroundings.
Finally Cap’n Bill stopped to rest.
“There’s somethin’ queer about this ’ere tunnel, I’m certain,” he declared, wagging his head dolefully. “Here’s three candles gone a’ready, an’ only three more left us, yet the tunnel’s the same as it was when we started. An’ how long it’s goin’ to keep up, no one knows.”
“Couldn’t we walk without a light?” asked Trot. “The way seems safe enough.”
“It does right now,” was the reply, “but we can’t tell when we are likely to come to another gulf, or somethin’ jes’ as dangerous. In that case we’d be killed afore we knew it.”
“Suppose I go ahead?” suggested the Ork. “I don’t fear a fall, you know, and if anything happens I’ll call out and warn you.”
“That’s a good idea,” declared Trot, and Cap’n Bill thought so, too. So the Ork started off ahead, quite in the dark, and hand in hand the two followed him.
When they had walked in this way for a good long time the Ork halted and demanded food. Cap’n Bill had not mentioned food because there was so little left—only three biscuits and a lump of cheese about as big as his two fingers—but he gave the Ork half of a biscuit, sighing as he did so. The creature didn’t care for the cheese, so the sailor divided it between himself and Trot. They lighted a candle and sat down in the tunnel while they ate.
“My feet hurt me,” grumbled the Ork. “I’m not used to walking and this rocky passage is so uneven and lumpy that it hurts me to walk upon it.”
“Can’t you fly along?” asked Trot.
“No; the roof is too low,” said the Ork.
After the meal they resumed their journey, which Trot began to fear would never end. When Cap’n Bill noticed how tired the little girl was, he paused and lighted a match and looked at his big silver watch.
“Why, it’s night!” he exclaimed. “We’ve tramped all day, an’ still we’re in this awful passage, which mebbe goes straight through the middle of the world, an’ mebbe is a circle—in which case we can keep walkin’ till doomsday. Not knowin’ what’s before us so well as we know what’s behind us, I propose we make a stop, now, an’ try to sleep till mornin’.”
“That will suit me,” asserted the Ork, with a groan. “My feet are hurting me dreadfully and for the last few miles I’ve been limping with pain.”
“My foot hurts, too,” said the sailor, looking for a smooth place on the rocky floor to sit down.
“Yourfoot!” cried the Ork. “Why, you’ve only one to hurt you, while I have four. So I suffer four times as much as you possibly can. Here; hold the candle while I look at the bottoms of my claws. I declare,” he said, examining them by the flickering light, “there are bunches of pain all over them!”
“P’r’aps,” said Trot, who was very glad to sit down beside her companions, “you’ve got corns.”
“Corns? Nonsense! Orks never have corns,” protested the creature, rubbing its sore feet tenderly.
“Then mebbe they’re—they’re—What do you call ’em, Cap’n Bill? Something ’bout the Pilgrim’s Progress, you know.”
“Bunions,” said Cap’n Bill.
“Oh, yes; mebbe you’ve got bunions.”
“It is possible,” moaned the Ork. “But whatever they are, another day of such walking on them would drive me crazy.”
“I’m sure they’ll feel better by mornin’,” said Cap’n Bill, encouragingly. “Go to sleep an’ try to forget your sore feet.”
The Ork cast a reproachful look at the sailor-man, who didn’t see it. Then the creature asked plaintively: “Do we eat now, or do we starve?”
“There’s only half a biscuit left for you,” answered Cap’n Bill. “No one knows how long we’ll have to stay in this dark tunnel, where there’s nothing whatever to eat; so I advise you to save that morsel o’ food till later.”
“Give it me now!” demanded the Ork. “If I’m going to starve, I’ll do it all at once—not by degrees.”
Cap’n Bill produced the biscuit and the creature ate it in a trice. Trot was rather hungry and whisperedto Cap’n Bill that she’d take part of her share; but the old man secretly broke his own half-biscuit in two, saving Trot’s share for a time of greater need.
He was beginning to be worried over the little girl’s plight and long after she was asleep and the Ork was snoring in a rather disagreeable manner, Cap’n Bill sat with his back to a rock and smoked his pipe and tried to think of some way to escape from this seemingly endless tunnel. But after a time he also slept, for hobbling on a wooden leg all day was tiresome, and there in the dark slumbered the three adventurers for many hours, until the Ork roused itself and kicked the old sailor with one foot.
“It must be another day,” said he.
CHAPTER 4
Daylight at Last
Cap’n Bill rubbed his eyes, lit a match and consulted his watch.
"Nine o’clock. Yes, I guess it’s another day, sure enough. Shall we go on?’ he asked.
“Of course,” replied the Ork. “Unless this tunnel is different from everything else in the world, and has no end, we’ll find a way out of it sooner or later.”
The sailor gently wakened Trot. She felt much rested by her long sleep and sprang to her feet eagerly.
“Let’s start, Cap’n,” was all she said.
They resumed the journey and had only taken a few steps when the Ork cried “Wow!” and made agreat fluttering of its wings and whirling of its tail. The others, who were following a short distance behind, stopped abruptly.
“What’s the matter?” asked Cap’n Bill.
“Give us a light,” was the reply. “I think we’ve come to the end of the tunnel.” Then, while Cap’n Bill lighted a candle, the creature added: “If that is true, we needn’t have wakened so soon, for we were almost at the end of this place when we went to sleep.”
The sailor-man and Trot came forward with a light. A wall of rock really faced the tunnel, but now they saw that the opening made a sharp turn to the left. So they followed on, by a narrower passage, and then made another sharp turn—this time to the right.
“Blow out the light, Cap’n,” said the Ork, in a pleased voice. “We’ve struck daylight.”
Daylight at last! A shaft of mellow light fell almost at their feet as Trot and the sailor turned the corner of the passage, but it came from above, and raising their eyes they found they were at the bottom of a deep, rocky well, with the top far, far above their heads. And here the passage ended.
For a while they gazed in silence, at least two of them being filled with dismay at the sight. But the Ork merely whistled softly and said cheerfully:
“That was the toughest journey I ever had the misfortune to undertake, and I’m glad it’s over. Yet, unless I can manage to fly to the top of this pit, we are entombed here forever.”
“Do you think there is room enough for you to fly in?” asked the little girl anxiously; and Cap’n Bill added:
“It’s a straight-up shaft, so I don’t see how you’ll ever manage it.”
“Were I an ordinary bird—one of those horrid feathered things—I wouldn’t even make the attempt to fly out,” said the Ork. “But my mechanical propeller tail can accomplish wonders, and whenever you’re ready I’ll show you a trick that is worth while.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Trot; “do you intend to take us up, too?”
“Why not?”
“I thought,” said Cap’n Bill, “as you’d go first, an’ then send somebody to help us by lettin’ down a rope.”
“Ropes are dangerous,” replied the Ork, “and I might not be able to find one to reach all this distance. Besides, it stands to reason that if I can get out myself I can also carry you two with me.”
“Well, I’m not afraid,” said Trot, who longed to be on the earth’s surface again.
“S’pose we fall?” suggested Cap’n Bill, doubtfully.
“Why, in that case we would all fall together,” returned the Ork. “Get aboard, little girl; sit across my shoulders and put both your arms around my neck.”
Trot obeyed and when she was seated on the Ork, Cap’n Bill inquired:
“How ’bout me, Mr. Ork?”
“Why, I think you’d best grab hold of my rear legs and let me carry you up in that manner,” was the reply.
Cap’n Bill looked way up at the top of the well, and then he looked at the Ork’s slender, skinny legs and heaved a deep sigh.
“It’s goin’ to be some dangle, I guess; but if you don’t waste too much time on the way up, I may be able to hang on,” said he.
“All ready, then!” cried the Ork, and at once his whirling tail began to revolve. Trot felt herself rising into the air; when the creature’s legs left the ground Cap’n Bill grasped two of them firmly and held on for dear life. The Ork’s body was tipped straight upward, and Trot had to embrace the neck very tightly to keep from sliding off. Even in this position the Ork had trouble in escaping the roughsides of the well. Several times it exclaimed “Wow!” as it bumped its back, or a wing hit against some jagged projection; but the tail kept whirling with remarkable swiftness and the daylight grew brighter and brighter. It was, indeed, a long journey from the bottom to the top, yet almost before Trot realized they had come so far, they popped out of the hole into the clear air and sunshine and a moment later the Ork alighted gently upon the ground.
The release was so sudden that even with the creature’s care for its passengers Cap’n Bill struck the earth with a shock that sent him rolling heel over head; but by the time Trot had slid down from her seat the old sailor-man was sitting up and looking around him with much satisfaction.
“It’s sort o’ pretty here,” said he.
“Earth is a beautiful place!” cried Trot.
"I wonder where on earth we are?’ pondered the Ork, turning first one bright eye and then the other to this side and that. Trees there were, in plenty,and shrubs and flowers and green turf. But there were no houses; there were no paths; there was no sign of civilization whatever.
“Just before I settled down on the ground I thought I caught a view of the ocean,” said the Ork. “Let’s see if I was right.” Then he flew to a little hill, near by, and Trot and Cap’n Bill followed him more slowly. When they stood on the top of the hill they could see the blue waves of the ocean in front of them, to the right of them, and at the left of them. Behind the hill was a forest that shut out the view.
“I hope it ain’t an island, Trot,” said Cap’n Bill gravely.
“If it is, I s’pose we’re prisoners,” she replied.
“Ezzackly so, Trot.”
“But, even so, it’s better than those terr’ble underground tunnels and caverns,” declared the girl.
“You are right, little one,” agreed the Ork. “Anything above ground is better than the best that lies under ground. So let’s not quarrel with our fate but be thankful we’ve escaped.”
“We are, indeed!” she replied. “But I wonder if we can find something to eat in this place?”
“Let’s explore an’ find out,” proposed Cap’n Bill. “Those trees over at the left look like cherry-trees.”
On the way to them the explorers had to walk through a tangle of vines and Cap’n Bill, who went first, stumbled and pitched forward on his face.
“Why, it’s a melon!” cried Trot delightedly, as she saw what had caused the sailor to fall.
Cap’n Bill rose to his foot, for he was not at all hurt, and examined the melon. Then he took his big jackknife from his pocket and cut the melon open. It was quite ripe and looked delicious; but the old man tasted it before he permitted Trot to eat any. Deciding it was good he gave her a big slice and then offered the Ork some. The creature looked at thefruit somewhat disdainfully, at first, but once he had tasted its flavor he ate of it as heartily as did the others. Among the vines they discovered many other melons, and Trot said gratefully: “Well, there’s no danger of our starving, even if thisisan island.”
“Melons,” remarked Cap’n Bill, “are both food an’ water. We couldn’t have struck anything better.”
Farther on they came to the cherry-trees, where they obtained some of the fruit, and at the edge of the little forest were wild plums. The forest itself consisted entirely of nut trees—walnuts, filberts, almonds and chestnuts—so there would be plenty of wholesome food for them while they remained there.
Cap’n Bill and Trot decided to walk through the forest, to discover what was on the other side of it, but the Ork’s feet were still so sore and “lumpy” from walking on the rocks that the creature said he preferred to fly over the tree-tops and meet them on the other side. The forest was not large, so by walking briskly for fifteen minutes they reached its farthest edge and saw before them the shore of the ocean.
“It’s an island, all right,” said Trot, with a sigh.
“Yes, and a pretty island, too,” said Cap’n Bill, trying to conceal his disappointment on Trot’s account. "I guess, partner, if the wuss comes to the wuss,I could build a raft—or even a boat—from those trees, so’s we could sail away in it."
The little girl brightened at this suggestion.
“I don’t see the Ork anywhere,” she remarked, looking around. Then her eyes lighted upon something and she exclaimed: “Oh, Cap’n Bill! Isn’t that a house, over there to the left?”
Cap’n Bill, looking closely, saw a shed-like structure built at one edge of the forest.
“Seems like it, Trot. Not that I’d call it much of a house, but it’s a buildin’, all right. Let’s go over an’ see if it’s occypied.”
CHAPTER 5
The Little Old Man of the Island
A few steps brought them to the shed, which was merely a roof of boughs built over a square space, with some branches of trees fastened to the sides to keep off the wind. The front was quite open and faced the sea, and as our friends came nearer they observed a little man, with a long pointed beard, sitting motionless on a stool and staring thoughtfully out over the water.
“Get out of the way, please,” he called in a fretful voice. “Can’t you see you are obstructing my view?”
“Good morning,” said Cap’n Bill, politely.
“It isn’t a good morning!” snapped the little man.“I’ve seen plenty of mornings better than this. Do you call it a good morning when I’m pestered with such a crowd as you?”
Trot was astonished to hear such words from a stranger whom they had greeted quite properly, and Cap’n Bill grew red at the little man’s rudeness. But the sailor said, in a quiet tone of voice:
“Are you the only one as lives on this ’ere island?”
“Your grammar’s bad,” was the reply. “But this is my own exclusive island, and I’ll thank you to get off it as soon as possible.”
“We’d like to do that,” said Trot, and then she and Cap’n Bill turned away and walked down to the shore, to see if any other land was in sight.
The little man rose and followed them, although both were now too provoked to pay any attention to him.
“Nothin’ in sight, partner,” reported Cap’n Bill, shading his eyes with his hand; “so we’ll have to stay here for a time, anyhow. It isn’t a bad place, Trot, by any means.”
“That’s all you know about it!” broke in the little man. "The trees are altogether too green and the rocks are harder than they ought to be. I find the sand very grainy and the water dreadfully wet.Every breeze makes a draught and the sun shines in the daytime, when there’s no need of it, and disappears just as soon as it begins to get dark. If you remain here you’ll find the island very unsatisfactory."
Trot turned to look at him, and her sweet face was grave and curious.
“I wonder who you are,” she said.
“My name is Pessim,” said he, with an air of pride. “I’m called the Observer.”
“Oh. What do you observe?” asked the little girl.
“Everything I see,” was the reply, in a more surly tone. Then Pessim drew back with a startled exclamation and looked at some footprints in the sand. "Why, good gracious me!’ he cried in distress.
"What’s the matter now?’ asked Cap’n Bill.
“Someone has pushed the earth in! Don’t you see it?”
“It isn’t pushed in far enough to hurt anything,” said Trot, examining the footprints.
“Everything hurts that isn’t right,” insisted the man. “If the earth were pushed in a mile, it would be a great calamity, wouldn’t it?”
“I s’pose so,” admitted the little girl.
"Well, here it is pushed in a full inch! That’s a twelfth of a foot, or a little more than a millionthpart of a mile. Therefore it is one-millionth part of a calamity—Oh, dear! How dreadful!" said Pessim in a wailing voice.
“Try to forget it, sir,” advised Cap’n Bill, soothingly. “It’s beginning to rain. Let’s get under your shed and keep dry.”
"Raining! Is it really raining?’ asked Pessim, beginning to weep.
“It is,” answered Cap’n Bill, as the drops began to descend, “and I don’t see any way to stop it—although I’m some observer myself.”
“No; we can’t stop it, I fear,” said the man. “Are you very busy just now?”
“I won’t be after I get to the shed,” replied the sailor-man.
“Then do me a favor, please,” begged Pessim, walking briskly along behind them, for they were hastening to the shed.
“Depends on what it is,” said Cap’n Bill.
“I wish you would take my umbrella down to the shore and hold it over the poor fishes till it stops raining. I’m afraid they’ll get wet,” said Pessim.
Trot laughed, but Cap’n Bill thought the little man was poking fun at him and so he scowled upon Pessim in a way that showed he was angry.
They reached the shed before getting very wet, although the rain was now coming down in big drops. The roof of the shed protected them and while they stood watching the rainstorm something buzzed in and circled around Pessim’s head. At once the Observer began beating it away with his hands, crying out:
“A bumblebee! A bumblebee! The queerest bumblebee I ever saw!”
Cap’n Bill and Trot both looked at it and the little girl said in surprise:
“Dear me! It’s a wee little Ork!”
“That’s what it is, sure enough,” exclaimed Cap’n Bill.
Really, it wasn’t much bigger than a big bumblebee, and when it came toward Trot she allowed it to alight on her shoulder.
“It’s me, all right,” said a very small voice in her ear; “but I’m in an awful pickle, just the same!”
“What, are youourOrk, then?” demanded the girl, much amazed.
“No, I’m my own Ork. But I’m the only Ork you know,” replied the tiny creature.
“What’s happened to you?” asked the sailor, putting his head close to Trot’s shoulder in order tohear the reply better. Pessim also put his head close, and the Ork said:
"You will remember that when I left you I started to fly over the trees, and just as I got to this side of the forest I saw a bush that was loaded down with the most luscious fruit you can imagine. The fruit was about the size of a gooseberry and of a lovely lavender color. So I swooped down and picked off one in my bill and ate it. At once I began to grow small. I could feel myself shrinking, shrinking away, and it frightened me terribly, so that I alightedon the ground to think over what was happening. In a few seconds I had shrunk to the size you now see me; but there I remained, getting no smaller, indeed, but no larger. It is certainly a dreadful affliction! After I had recovered somewhat from the shock I began to search for you. It is not so easy to find one’s way when a creature is so small, but fortunately I spied you here in this shed and came to you at once."
Cap’n Bill and Trot were much astonished at this story and felt grieved for the poor Ork, but the little man Pessim seemed to think it a good joke. He began laughing when he heard the story and laughed until he choked, after which he lay down on the ground and rolled and laughed again, while the tears of merriment coursed down his wrinkled cheeks.
“Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” he finally gasped, sitting up and wiping his eyes. “This is too rich! It’s almost too joyful to be true.”
“I don’t see anything funny about it,” remarked Trot indignantly.
“You would if you’d had my experience,” said Pessim, getting upon his feet and gradually resuming his solemn and dissatisfied expression of countenance. “The same thing happened to me.”
“Oh, did it? And how did you happen to come to this island?” asked the girl.
“I didn’t come; the neighbors brought me,” replied the little man, with a frown at the recollection. “They said I was quarrelsome and fault-finding and blamed me because I told them all the things that went wrong, or never were right, and because I told them how things ought to be. So they brought me here and left me all alone, saying that if I quarreled with myself, no one else would be made unhappy. Absurd, wasn’t it?”
“Seems to me,” said Cap’n Bill, “those neighbors did the proper thing.”
“Well,” resumed Pessim, "when I found myself King of this island I was obliged to live upon fruits, and I found many fruits growing here that I had never seen before. I tasted several and found them good and wholesome. But one day I ate a lavender berry—as the Ork did—and immediately I grew so small that I was scarcely two inches high. It was a very unpleasant condition and like the Ork I became frightened. I could not walk very well nor very far, for every lump of earth in my way seemed a mountain, every blade of grass a tree and every grain of sand a rocky boulder. For severaldays I stumbled around in an agony of fear. Once a tree toad nearly gobbled me up, and if I ran out from the shelter of the bushes the gulls and cormorants swooped down upon me. Finally I decided to eat another berry and become nothing at all, since life, to one as small as I was, had become a dreary nightmare.
“At last I found a small tree that I thought bore the same fruit as that I had eaten. The berry was dark purple instead of light lavender, but otherwise it was quite similar. Being unable to climb the tree, I was obliged to wait underneath it until a sharp breeze arose and shook the limbs so that a berry fell. Instantly I seized it and taking a last view of the world—as I then thought—I ate the berry in a twinkling. Then, to my surprise, I began to grow big again, until I became of my former stature, and so I have since remained. Needless to say, I have never eaten again of the lavender fruit, nor do any of the beasts or birds that live upon this island eat it.”
They had all three listened eagerly to this amazing tale, and when it was finished the Ork exclaimed:
“Do you think, then, that the deep purple berry is the antidote for the lavender one?”
“I’m sure of it,” answered Pessim. “Then lead me to the tree at once!” begged the Ork, “for this tiny form I now have terrifies me greatly.”
Pessim examined the Ork closely.
“You are ugly enough as you are,” said he. “Were you any larger you might be dangerous.”
“Oh, no,” Trot assured him; “the Ork has been our good friend. Please take us to the tree.”
Then Pessim consented, although rather reluctantly. He led them to the right, which was the east sideof the island, and in a few minutes brought them near to the edge of the grove which faced the shore of the ocean. Here stood a small tree bearing berries of a deep purple color. The fruit looked very enticing and Cap’n Bill reached up and selected one that seemed especially plump and ripe.
The Ork had remained perched upon Trot’s shoulder but now it flew down to the ground. It was so difficult for Cap’n Bill to kneel down, with his wooden leg, that the little girl took the berry from him and held it close to the Ork’s head.
“It’s too big to go into my mouth,” said the little creature, looking at the fruit sidewise.
“You’ll have to make sev’ral mouthfuls of it, I guess,” said Trot; and that is what the Ork did. He pecked at the soft, ripe fruit with his bill and ate it up very quickly, because it was good.
Even before he had finished the berry they could see the Ork begin to grow. In a few minutes he had regained his natural size and was strutting before them, quite delighted with his transformation.
“Well, well! What do you think of me now?” he asked proudly.
“You are very skinny and remarkably ugly,” declared Pessim.
“You are a poor judge of Orks,” was the reply. “Anyone can see that I’m much handsomer than those dreadful things called birds, which are all fluff and feathers.”
“Their feathers make soft beds,” asserted Pessim.
“And my skin would make excellent drumheads,” retorted the Ork. “Nevertheless, a plucked bird or a skinned Ork would be of no value to himself, so we needn’t brag of our usefulness after we are dead. But for the sake of argument, friend Pessim, I’d like to know what goodyouwould be, were you not alive?”
“Never mind that,” said Cap’n Bill. “He isn’t much good as he is.”
“I am King of this Island, allow me to say, and you’re intruding on my property,” declared the little man, scowling upon them. “If you don’t like me—and I’m sure you don’t, for no one else does—why don’t you go away and leave me to myself?”
“Well, the Ork can fly, but we can’t,” explained Trot, in answer. “We don’t want to stay here a bit, but I don’t see how we can get away.”
“You can go back into the hole you came from.”
Cap’n Bill shook his head; Trot shuddered at the thought; the Ork laughed aloud.
“You may be King here,” the creature said to Pessim, “but we intend to run this island to suit ourselves, for we are three and you are one, and the balance of power lies with us.”
The little man made no reply to this, although as they walked back to the shed his face wore its fiercest scowl. Cap’n Bill gathered a lot of leaves and, assisted by Trot, prepared two nice beds in opposite corners of the shed. Pessim slept in a hammock which he swung between two trees.
They required no dishes, as all their food consisted of fruits and nuts picked from the trees; they made no fire, for the weather was warm and there was nothing to cook; the shed had no furniture other than the rude stool which the little man was accustomed to sit upon. He called it his “throne” and they let him keep it.
So they lived upon the island for three days, and rested and ate to their hearts’ content. Still, they were not at all happy in this life because of Pessim. He continually found fault with them, and all that they did, and all their surroundings. He could see nothing good or admirable in all the world and Trot soon came to understand why the little man’s former neighbors had brought him to this island and left him there, all alone, so he could not annoy anyone. It wastheir misfortune that they had been led to this place by their adventures, for often they would have preferred the company of a wild beast to that of Pessim.
On the fourth day a happy thought came to the Ork. They had all been racking their brains for a possible way to leave the island, and discussing this or that method, without finding a plan that was practical. Cap’n Bill had said he could make a raft of the trees, big enough to float them all, but he had no tools except those two pocketknives and it was not possible to chop down trees with such small blades.
“And s’pose we got afloat on the ocean,” said Trot, “where would we drift to, and how long would it take us to get there?”
Cap’n Bill was forced to admit he didn’t know. The Ork could fly away from the island any time it wished to, but the queer creature was loyal to his new friends and refused to leave them in such a lonely, forsaken place.
It was when Trot urged him to go, on this fourth morning, that the Ork had his happy thought.
“I will go,” said he, “if you two will agree to ride upon my back.”
“We are too heavy; you might drop us,” objected Cap’n Bill.
“Yes, you are rather heavy for a long journey,” acknowledged the Ork, “but you might eat of those lavender berries and become so small that I could carry you with ease.”
This quaint suggestion startled Trot and she looked gravely at the speaker while she considered it, but Cap’n Bill gave a scornful snort and asked:
“What would become of us afterward! We wouldn’t be much good if we were some two or three inches high. No, Mr. Ork, I’d rather stay here, as I am, than be a hop-o’-my-thumb somewhere else.”
“Why couldn’t you take some of the dark purple berries along with you, to eat after we had reached our destination?” inquired the Ork. “Then you could grow big again whenever you pleased.”
Trot clapped her hands with delight.
“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Let’s do it, Cap’n Bill.”
The old sailor did not like the idea at first, but he thought it over carefully and the more he thought the better it seemed.
“How could you manage to carry us, if we were so small?” he asked.
“I could put you in a paper bag, and tie the bag around my neck.”
“But we haven’t a paper bag,” objected Trot.
The Ork looked at her.
“There’s your sunbonnet,” it said presently, “which is hollow in the middle and has two strings that you could tie around my neck.”
Trot took off her sunbonnet and regarded it critically. Yes, it might easily hold both her and Cap’n Bill, after they had eaten the lavender berries and been reduced in size. She tied the strings around the Ork’s neck and the sunbonnet made a bag in whichtwo tiny people might ride without danger of falling out. So she said:
“I b’lieve we’ll do it that way, Cap’n.”
Cap’n Bill groaned but could make no logical objection except that the plan seemed to him quite dangerous—and dangerous in more ways than one.
“I think so, myself,” said Trot soberly. “But nobody can stay alive without getting into danger sometimes, and danger doesn’t mean getting hurt, Cap’n; it only means wemightget hurt. So I guess we’ll have to take the risk.”
“Let’s go and find the berries,” said the Ork.
They said nothing to Pessim, who was sitting on his stool and scowling dismally as he stared at the ocean, but started at once to seek the trees that bore the magic fruits. The Ork remembered very well where the lavender berries grew and led his companions quickly to the spot.
Cap’n Bill gathered two berries and placed them carefully in his pocket. Then they went around to the east side of the island and found the tree that bore the dark purple berries.
“I guess I’ll take four of these,” said the sailor-man, “so in case one doesn’t make us grow big we can eat another.”
“Better take six,” advised the Ork. “It’s well to be on the safe side, and I’m sure these trees grow nowhere else in all the world.”
So Cap’n Bill gathered six of the purple berries and with their precious fruit they returned to the shed to bid good-bye to Pessim. Perhaps they would not have granted the surly little man this courtesy had they not wished to use him to tie the sunbonnet around the Ork’s neck.
When Pessim learned they were about to leave him he at first looked greatly pleased, but he suddenly recollected that nothing ought to please him and so began to grumble about being left alone.
“We knew it wouldn’t suit you,” remarked Cap’n Bill. “It didn’t suit you to have us here, and it won’t suit you to have us go away.”
“That is quite true,” admitted Pessim. “I haven’t been suited since I can remember; so it doesn’t matter to me in the least whether you go or stay.”
He was interested in their experiment, however, and willingly agreed to assist, although he prophesied they would fall out of the sunbonnet on their way and be either drowned in the ocean or crushed upon some rocky shore. This uncheerful prospect did not daunt Trot, but it made Cap’n Bill quite nervous.
“I will eat my berry first,” said Trot, as she placed her sunbonnet on the ground, in such manner that they could get into it.
Then she ate the lavender berry and in a few seconds became so small that Cap’n Bill picked her up gently with his thumb and one finger and placed her in the middle of the sunbonnet. Then he placed beside her the six purple berries—each one being about as big as the tiny Trot’s head—and all preparations being now made the old sailor ate his lavender berry and became very small—wooden leg and all!
Cap’n Bill stumbled sadly in trying to climb over the edge of the sunbonnet and pitched in beside Trot headfirst, which caused the unhappy Pessim to laugh with glee. Then the King of the Island picked up the sunbonnet—so rudely that he shook its occupants like peas in a pod—and tied it, by means of its strings, securely around the Ork’s neck.
“I hope, Trot, you sewed those strings on tight,” said Cap’n Bill anxiously.
“Why, we are not very heavy, you know,” she replied, “so I think the stitches will hold. But be careful and not crush the berries, Cap’n.”
“One is jammed already,” he said, looking at them.
“All ready?” asked the Ork.
“Yes!” they cried together, and Pessim came close to the sunbonnet and called out to them: “You’ll be smashed or drowned, I’m sure you will! But farewell, and good riddance to you.”
The Ork was provoked by this unkind speech, so he turned his tail toward the little man and made it revolve so fast that the rush of air tumbled Pessim over backward and he rolled several times upon the ground before he could stop himself and sit up. By that time the Ork was high in the air and speeding swiftly over the ocean.