Part 5 (1/2)

'Has the order yet been given for this little Piskey vagrant to be taken up and treated in like manner?' asked another little Night-rider.

The poor little Piskey did not wait to hear the answer, but took to his heels and ran as fast as he could to the north, and the little Night-riders who were still standing on the colt watched him till he was out of sight, and Granfer Night-rider and all the other little Night-riders yelled after him to stop, but he did not stop.

The Piskey ran and ran, and he never stopped running till he came to Castle Gardens, whence he had started.

When he got there he was as exhausted as a colt ridden all night by naughty Night-riders, and he sank down all of a heap by the side of a mole-hill, where two tiny hands were again sticking up.

'Is your ladys.h.i.+p under the hill?' asked the little Piskey when he could speak.

'Yes,' answered the mole. 'Who are you?'

'The little Piskey who lost his laugh.'

'What! haven't you found it yet?'

'No,' he answered sadly, 'and I am dreadfully afraid I never shall. If I don't find it soon I shall be taken up for a Piskey vagrant, put in a bag, and hung upside down like a widdy-mouse in some cavern.'

'That will be a very tragic ending to a bright little Piskey,' said the mole. 'Tell me how you know that that will be your fate if you don't find your laugh.'

And the Piskey told her. In fact, the Lady Want was so interested about what Granfer Night-rider had said that she begged him to tell her all his adventures from the time he set out to Rough Tor Marsh in search of his laugh till his return to Castle Gardens, which he was quite glad to do.

'You ought to find your laugh after all your travels and what you have gone through,' said the Lady Want when he had related everything, 'and I hope you will.'

'Does your ladys.h.i.+p happen to know anybody else who may have seen my laugh?' asked the little Piskey wistfully.

'Only one.'

'And who may that one be?' queried the little Piskey. 'Will your ladys.h.i.+p be kind enough to tell me?'

'The Good King Arthur,' the mole answered in a low voice.

'Good King Arthur!' e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Piskey. 'Why, he is dead, and a dead King is no more good than a Piskey without his laugh.'

'King Arthur is not dead,' said the mole.

'Not dead!' echoed the little Piskey in great surprise.

'No; he was seen perched only last evening on his own seat, which is still called King Arthur's Seat, and which, as I dare say you know, overhangs the sea.'

'Arthur the King not dead!' whispered the little Piskey, as if he could not get over his amazement.

'A precious good thing for you he isn't,' snapped the mole.

'But how isn't he dead?' asked the little Piskey.

'Because he was changed by magic into a bird,' answered the mole; 'he haunts the Dundagel [8] cliffs and the ruins of his old castle in the form of a chough. He was wounded almost unto death in his last great battle, it is true,' she added, for the small man looked as if he wanted this strange happening fully explained, 'and the marks of the battle he fought and the hurts he received are yet upon him, as the legs and beak of the great black bird plainly show--as plainly as my own tiny hands that I was once a great lady. But he is still alive. If you should see a bird with a red beak and legs flying over King Arthur's Castle as day is beginning to break, you may be quite certain that he is King Arthur. If he has seen your laugh he will be sure to tell you. He is very kind and good, as all the world knows.'

'I am glad the Good King is not dead,' said the little Piskey. 'I'll try and keep awake till the dawn so that I can ask him about my laugh; but I am so tired.'