Part 5 (1/2)
The mouths of the poor little mine-sprites watered, and they smacked their lips, but Grouthead snapped his long snake-whip so that it sounded like a pistol-shot, and they frantically continued digging away in the earth with their fingers.
Boundingbore flew to do Dragonfel's bidding, and Snoutpimple observed, rather timidly:
”The air down here is very bad, kind master!”
”That's good,” said Dragonfel, with hearty unction. ”It might make me ill if I were obliged to remain, so as I have a proper regard for my health I think I will get right out into the open.”
Attended by Mandrake, Snoutpimple, Wolfinger, and some of the rest, he went on his way, while Grouthead snapped his whip to incite the frightened, gasping, exhausted mine-sprites to further effort.
[Ill.u.s.tration: HELPLESSNESS IN THE MINE.]
When he came up out of the shaft Dragonfel gave a deep breath of relief as his nostrils sucked in the bracing air that had a salt tang of the sea in it. Out in the harbor there tossed a galleon on the lazy swell--a craft built low amid-s.h.i.+p, and with both bow and stern curving high into the air.
Dragonfel gazed off at it with interest, and remarked:
”It may come in handy soon if these Brownies and fairies continue longer. They are getting altogether too good, and must be stopped. But let us go back to the palace to see if anything has happened in our absence.”
Nothing else was to be seen on the wide water to draw his attention, except some mermaids who were above the waves, engaged in combing their hair, who, to most people, are very interesting.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
A little bird with very acute hearing listened intently to his words as it lightly balanced on the twig of a gumdrop tree, and then flew straight across the sea to tell a fairy, who told the other fairies.
Dragonfel with his big, clumsy, lumbering cohorts strode on to the palace that was guarded by a Demon Usher--a queer, comical-looking chap who with his wings much resembled a human gra.s.shopper, and who half flew, half walked.
He had thin little wisps of hair sticking out from each side of his nose, like the scanty whiskers of a cat.
The Demon Usher with hops and jumps escorted him to a magnificent throne, and grovelled with smirks before him, while Dragonfel with what he thought to be the quintessence of grace sank upon it, and then arranged himself in what he imagined was a kingly posture.
”Well,” he gruffly said, ”has anyone been here since I've been gone?”
”No, kind master!” the Demon Usher hastened to a.s.sure him. ”No one has been here since the band and you remember them.”
”Ah, that band!” repeated Dragonfel, with a shudder. ”I can't get their notes out of my ears yet. But what have we here?”
[Ill.u.s.tration]
A huge creature resembling an octopus, with great, staring eyes popping from his head, and hundreds of fuzzy tentacles protruding in all directions from his grotesque body, came crawling toward him.
Straightway Dragonfel sprang up from the throne, while Wolfinger, Mandrake, Boundingbore, and Snoutpimple, who had a.s.sumed respectful positions at his sides, drew back in alarm.
But the Demon Usher gave a cackle of a laugh, and gleefully rubbed his hands together as though he were was.h.i.+ng them with invisible soap.
”Have no fear, kind master!” said a thin, piping voice from somewhere within the horrid creature's hulk. ”Is not this a pretty disguise?”
”The Red Spirit, as I live!” cried Dragonfel, in a tone of admiration not unmixed with relief. ”You rascal, why have you chosen this masquerade?”
”But is it not a clever one?” persisted the Red Spirit. ”See, kind master, I can either compress or expand myself at will.”