Part 3 (2/2)

”I hadn't time,” said Inga, sorrowfully.

”Well, I'm not suffering from thirst,” declared the King, ”for there's enough water inside me to float all the boats of Regos and Coregos or at least it feels that way. But never mind! So long as I'm not actually drowned, what does it matter?”

”What shall we do next?” asked the boy anxiously.

”Call someone to help you,” was the reply.

”There is no one on the island but myself,” said the boy; ”--excepting you,” he added, as an afterthought.

”I'm not on it--more's the pity!--but in it,” responded Rinkitink. ”Are the warriors all gone?”

”Yes,” said Inga, ”and they have taken my father and mother, and all our people, to be their slaves,” he added, trying in vain to repress a sob.

”So--so!” said Rinkitink softly; and then he paused a moment, as if in thought. Finally he said: ”There are worse things than slavery, but I never imagined a well could be one of them. Tell me, Inga, could you let down some food to me? I'm nearly starved, and if you could manage to send me down some food I'd be well fed--hoo, hoo, heek, keek, eek!--well fed. Do you see the joke, Inga?”

”Do not ask me to enjoy a joke just now, Your Majesty,” begged Inga in a sad voice; ”but if you will be patient I will try to find something for you to eat.”

He ran back to the ruins of the palace and began searching for bits of food with which to satisfy the hunger of the King, when to his surprise he observed the goat, Bilbil, wandering among the marble blocks.

”What!” cried Inga. ”Didn't the warriors get you, either?”

”If they had,” calmly replied Bilbil, ”I shouldn't be here.”

”But how did you escape?” asked the boy.

”Easily enough. I kept my mouth shut and stayed away from the rascals,”

said the goat. ”I knew that the soldiers would not care for a skinny old beast like me, for to the eye of a stranger I seem good for nothing. Had they known I could talk, and that my head contained more wisdom than a hundred of their own noddles, I might not have escaped so easily.”

”Perhaps you are right,” said the boy.

”I suppose they got the old man?” carelessly remarked Bilbil.

”What old man?”

”Rinkitink.”

”Oh, no! His Majesty is at the bottom of the well,” said Inga, ”and I don't know how to get him out again.”

”Then let him stay there,” suggested the goat.

”That would be cruel. I am sure, Bilbil, that you are fond of the good King, your master, and do not mean what you say. Together, let us find some way to save poor King Rinkitink. He is a very jolly companion, and has a heart exceedingly kind and gentle.”

”Oh, well; the old boy isn't so bad, taken altogether,” admitted Bilbil, speaking in a more friendly tone. ”But his bad jokes and fat laughter tire me dreadfully, at times.”

Prince Inga now ran back to the well, the goat following more leisurely.

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