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Coco Bolo: King of the Floating Island

<h2>CHAPTER VIII LOBSTERNECK</h2> "Catch him!" shouted the King; "Catch him!" shouted the Admiral; "Catch him!" cried Margaret and Frances and the five little Princes; and all nine of them set off running as fast as they could, jumping like a flock of grasshoppers, trying to grasp the infant Prince by his ankles; while the infant Prince, himself, went sailing along backwards, laughing with glee and waving his hands to the company below, evidently enjoying himself immensely. Where he might have blown to there is no telling, had it not been for Margaret. As she ran past the throne she espied the King's crown still hanging to one of the gold knobs. Snatching it down, she raced after the others, and coming under the little Prince, she called out, "Here, Princy, boy! Catch this!"—at the same time throwing up the crown to him. The effect was rather unexpected. The youngster missed the catch, but luckily Margaret had made[Pg 96] such a good cast that the crown pitched over his head and settled down upon his shoulders, like a horse-collar. The little Prince instantly grasped it tight with both hands, when, being overweighted, he turned heels up and came floating down head-first to where nine pairs of hands were waiting to catch him. "Well done!" cried His Majesty. "Very well done! Now—" He stopped, and, holding up one finger, cocked his ears, when the two little girls, listening too, heard the clink-clank of the Court Crier's bell approaching. "Oh, bother!" exclaimed the King. "They've got out. That's the way they always do. They sit down at the table and wait for dinner, and after a bit they forget what they are waiting for and they all get up and come out by the other door. They'll be coming round the corner in a minute. Let's run!" Away he went, Margaret and Frances and the Admiral, each holding two of the little Princes by the hand, running after him, over the hill behind the throne and down the other side, when the first thing they came to was a sort of wood-shed containing a number of logs, each of which had a ticket tacked on it, marked, "One," "Two," "Three," and so forth. "Oh, so this is where you keep your firewood, is it?" remarked Margaret to the Admiral. [Pg 97] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/110.jpg" width-obs="350" height-obs="560" alt="" /> <div class="caption">Turned heels up and came floating down head first</div> </div> [Pg 99] "Firewood!" cried the Admiral, aghast. "Dear me, no! These are all family trees. Firewood! Tut! Tut! I'm glad the king didn't hear you." "So am I," said Margaret. "It was a dreadful mistake, and I wouldn't hurt his feelings for anything. What are all the logs numbered for?" "So that the carpenter can tell which is which. See here!" So saying, the Admiral reached down from a nail a big book, the leaves of which were made of slabs of wood, like shingles. "This," said he, "is the log-book, and you see each family tree is recorded on a different page. Number one: the Oak family; number two: the Maples; number three: Lignum-Vitæ—very aristocratic family, that; number four: my own family, the Boxwoods; and so on." "I see. What a good idea! I suppose that is the carpenter over there, talking to the King: the little man in pink overalls and a paper cap, scratching his ear with a chisel." "That's the carpenter. He seems to be rather puzzled about something. Let us go and see what he's making." They found the King and the carpenter bending over a short log of wood, roughly chiseled into the[Pg 100] form of a man, which lay on a pair of trestles between them. Both of them looked so serious that the little girls could not help thinking there must be something wrong. "What is it, Rex?" asked the Admiral. "Anything the matter?" "Matter!" cried His Majesty. "I should think there was. We're regularly up a stump. What kind of wood do you suppose this is?"—touching the log with his foot. "I'm sure I don't know," replied the Admiral. "What is it? Mahogany?" "No. I wish it were. That would be simple enough. It's Blue Gum!" "Phew!" whistled the Admiral. And then he and the King and the carpenter all took hold of their chins with one hand, stuck out their lower lips, and gazed in perplexity at the log of wood lying on the trestles. Evidently it was a serious matter, for even the little Coco Bolos stuck out their lower lips in imitation of their elders, though why it was a serious matter Margaret and Frances could not understand. Margaret was just going to ask, when the King turned round and said: "It's because it's Blue Gum, you see. Any other[Pg 101] color would have been all right—but Blue! The one color we've always avoided." "Most unlucky," remarked the Admiral. "How did it get here?" "Floated ashore yesterday," replied the carpenter. "You see," continued the King, "it is against the law here for anyone to look blue—and what we are going to do with this log of Blue Gum I can't think." "Couldn't you make a policeman?" suggested Frances. "Grand idea!" cried the King, clapping his hands. "Just the thing! Thank you ever so much. We'll have a blue policeman to chase away the 'blues', just as we have a Court Crier to do the crying. What a happy thought! Then, if anyone does forget to be cheerful and polite it shall be the policeman's duty to catch him and paint him blue, of course." "He won't have much to do at that rate," remarked the Admiral, "for nobody has ever been painted blue yet. You'll have to give him something else to do to fill up his time, or he'll be coming down with the 'blues' himself." "You might give him a butterfly net," suggested Margaret, "and set him to chasing blue-bottles for practice." "That's a good idea, too," responded the King.[Pg 102] "So that's what we'll do. Make a policeman, Carpenter, and, if you can, make one that will keep awake. Do you think that's possible?" "Oh, yes," replied the carpenter. "I can fix him. I'll give him a hollow tooth, so that he can't breathe through his mouth without getting the toothache, and I'll make his skin so tight that he won't be able to shut his eyes without opening his mouth. See?" "Very good idea," said the King. "So, pitch in, Carpenter, and get him done as soon as you can. Hark! There's that bell again! Come on! Run! Or they'll find us yet." Away they all went again, round the corner of the wood-shed and up the hill where stood the dragon's tower—a round, fat tower with one arched doorway and no window. The dragon, himself, was not visible, until, walking round to the other side of the tower, they espied the end of his tail hanging over the edge between two of the battlements. "He's taking his afternoon nap," remarked the King. "Hi! You mouldy old reptile!" he called out. "Wake up! Here are two young ladies come to call on you!" At this, the long, scaly tail slowly withdrew, and in its place presently appeared the dragon's head, looking down at them. Thinking that he might feel[Pg 103] irritable at being thus awakened from his nap, Margaret and Frances carefully got behind the King, while Periwinkle got behind them, but they felt reassured in a moment when they saw what a jolly old dragon he was; for his little eyes twinkled and his smile was of most genial proportions. "How do, Ladies?" said the dragon, cordially. "Very glad to see you. I would have come down earlier to pay my respects, only it was just the time for my music lesson, so I couldn't well get away." "No, of course not," assented Margaret, who was taking lessons on the piano herself and knew how it was. "So you take music lessons, do you? What on?" "On purpose," replied the dragon. "Lessons in singing, with big drum and cymbals accompaniment." "That sounds difficult," remarked Frances. "Won't you sing us something, Mr. Snap-Dragon?" "Yes, do!" cried Margaret. "Come on down Six-foot," said the King, encouragingly. "You needn't be bashful. Come down and show your paces." "All right," said the dragon. "Anything to oblige." So saying, he withdrew his head, the children could hear his scales going clish-clash as he slid down the[Pg 104] stairs, and presently he came oozing out of the arched doorway—there seemed to be no end to him. As he was the first dragon they had ever seen, the two little girls, of course, gazed upon him with great interest. He had a long body and a long tail and a long neck which he could draw in or stretch out like a telescope, just as he pleased; he had six feet, on each of which he was wearing his best, white-kid, company boxing-gloves; and his back was shingled all over with copper-colored scales, two of which, placed just beneath his shoulder-blades, were about the size and shape of stove-lids. These two big scales appeared to work on hinges, like the lid of a box, the reason for which arrangement the children could not at first understand. "Now, Lobsterneck, old boy!" said the King. "Clear your pipes and get to work." "Very well," replied the dragon. "What would you like first?" "Give us a fantasia on the drum and cymbals—just to show the ladies how you do it." At this, the obliging old snap-dragon sat up straight, with his tail curled round his hind feet, when, with his middle pair of fists he hit himself several hard thumps on his chest, producing a sound like the beating of a big drum. At the same time, every[Pg 105] thump on his chest caused the "stove-lid" scales on his back to fly up on their hinges and come down again with a clash, making altogether a pretty good imitation of the drum and cymbals. "Good!" cried Frances, clapping her hands. "Isn't that clever!" "Isn't it!" responded Margaret. "Did it take you a very long time to learn, Mr. Snap-Dragon?" "A longish time," replied the dragon, with a sideways wag of his head. "The drum part is easy enough, of course, but I've had to spend hours and hours practising my scales." "I should think so," said Margaret, feelingly. "Scales on the piano are difficult enough, but scales on your back must be much worse. Now, won't you please sing us a song?" "With pleasure," replied the dragon. "What sort of a song would you like?" "Sing something suitable to the occasion," said the King. "Something about a garden-party, and put Margaret in." "Oh, yes, do!" cried both the little girls. "Can you? That would be nice!" "Anything to oblige," said the dragon once more; adding, with a modest cough behind his boxing-glove, "I'll sing you a little song to a tune of my own[Pg 106] decomposing." With that he unfolded a sheet of music, and holding it in his front paws, prepared to sing. [Pg 107] <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/111.jpg" width-obs="348" height-obs="556" alt="" /> <div class="caption"> With that he unfolded a sheet of music and prepared to sing</div> </div> [Pg 109] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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