"Now, then, what are you up to?"

In their agitation they let go of the Dodo, who, after making several frantic efforts to support himself, fell to the ground with a dull thud.

"What are you up to, I say?" said the voice again, and the children could see that the parrot, who had been so insolent to them before, was sitting on one of the branches near them.

"Pretty objects you are making of yourselves, I must say," he remarked, sneeringly. "What do you think you are doing, I should like to know?"

"I don't see what it has to do with you," said Dick, crossly, while the Dodo, with his eyes shut and his head on one side, ran about rubbing his back with one pinion, and crying, "Oh! oh! oh!" for he had evidently hurt himself very much.

"You don't, do you?" said the parrot. "Well, then, it has a great deal to do with me. Trying to fly, weren't you? Well, you are not birds, and it isn't allowed; do you hear? The idea of mere human creatures aping their betters in that way. Flying, indeed! Don't you let me catch you at it again, or you will be sorry for it, I can tell you. Now move on, and walk on your feet in a sensible way, like rational human beings. Go along! What next, I wonder!"

He was evidently so very angry that the children thought it best not to provoke him further, so, leading the Dodo, who hobbled along painfully, they walked silently away in the direction of the sea, while the parrot watched them with a severe expression, screaming out—"Move on! move on!" every time they stopped.

"What a disagreeable bird," whispered Marjorie, when they had gone some little distance.

"Wretch!" declared the Dodo, rubbing his back.

"For two pins I'd wring his neck," muttered Dick, angrily.

"Much obliged, I'm sure," said a mocking voice overhead, and there was that wretched parrot, looking down from one of the upper branches.

"Listeners never hear any good of themselves," remarked the Dodo.

"Pooh!—as though I cared what you thought about me," said the parrot. "Why, if I liked, I could—oh!" he cried, looking off to the left, "the Skipper," and, spreading his wings, he flew rapidly away with every sign of alarm.

The children followed his glance, and saw coming towards them a very stout, very jolly-looking sailor, with a red, hearty face and a jovial smile. To their great surprise, they saw that he was using a skipping-rope, and skipping towards them, smiling good-naturedly.

"Thank goodness, here's a man at last," said Dick. "Now we shall be able to find out something as to where we are, and how we are to get home again."

"Ship ahoy!" called out the sailor, when he first saw them.



"How do you do?" said Dick, politely offering his hand.

"Stop a bit, my hearty," said the sailor. "Salt!" and he began skipping rather quickly. "Pepper!!" and he quickened the pace considerably. "Mustard!!!" and the rope flew round so quickly that the children could hardly see it, while the jolly fat sailor skipped up and down furiously. Presently he stopped, and sank exhausted on a stone, puffing and blowing with all his might.

"I'm a Skipper," he panted, in an explanatory tone.

"A Skipper!" exclaimed the children.

"Yes, they calls me a Skipper," said he, "because I skips."

"But I thought a Skipper was a kind of Captain or something," said Marjorie.

"Quite right, my little dear; I'm Captain of the tidiest craft ye ever set eyes on. She's lying out yonder. Will ye come and have a look at her?"

"Oh, yes, please," said Dick, delightedly; "and perhaps you can tell us the way to get to England?"

"To be sure I can," said the Skipper. "There are my men," he said, proudly, as they came to an open space, where a dozen or more sailors, of all ages, sat at spinning wheels, working industriously.

"Whatever are they doing?" inquired Marjorie, curiously.



"Spinning yarns," explained the Skipper; "each sailor is spinning a yarn—they always do that in their spare time, you know. Here, Bill," he called out to one of the sailors, who answered, "Aye, aye, Sir," and touched his forelock. "Bring some of your yarn here, and show this young lady."

The man said, "Aye, aye, Sir," again, and came forward with some coarse brown worsted.

"This," said the Skipper, "is the toughest yarn you will find anywhere. We are celebrated for it here."



CHAPTER XII.

THE ARCHAEOPTERYX.

"But we always thought——" began Marjorie—

"That when people spoke of a sailor 'spinning a yarn,' they meant telling a story," finished Dick.

"Oh! oh! how could you think such a thing," said the sailors, indignantly. "Sailors always tell the truth; don't they, Skipper?"

The Skipper winked at Dick with one eye, and answered, guardedly, "Ahem! I have heard a sailor speak the truth, certainly, but——"

"Let's change the subject," said the sailors, getting up from their wheels. "Isn't it nearly time for us to be starting on another voyage?"

"When we get some passengers, it will be," responded the Skipper, gruffly. "By-the-bye," he added, turning to the children; "you want to go somewhere or another, don't you?"

"Yes, to England," said Dick, eagerly. "Do you go there, please?"

"H'm! Never heard of the place as I knows of," said the Skipper, scratching his head. "We might cruise about till we come across it, if you like, though."

"Never heard of England!" exclaimed Dick.

"No," said the Skipper, unconcernedly. "I never had no time to study goggerfy, I didn't, so there's lots of places I don't know, no more than the Man in the Moon."

"But don't you find it very awkward?" cried the children; "however do you know how to go from one place to another?"

"We don't know," said the Skipper, laughing; "that's just the fun of the thing. We get into our ship, and just go on and on till we come to somewhere or another, and then we land, you know. It's much the best way, and saves such a lot of bother."

"I am afraid we should be a long while reaching England that way," remarked Dick, dubiously.

"Oh, I don't know," said the Skipper, "we might drop across it the first time, you know. You see, it's not much use knowing in which direction it lies, because, once you get out to sea, there are no roads and things, so one way is as good as another."

"But don't you use a compass?" asked Marjorie.

"What's that, Miss?" asked the Skipper.

"Why, a little thing that always points to the North," said Marjorie.

"Blessed if I know, Miss," said the Skipper, good-naturedly. "Here, Bill," he called to one of the sailors, "do we use a little thing that always points to the North?"

"Not as I knows on," answered the man, sulkily. "We ain't got none of them newfangled things, and don't want 'em."

"Dear me, what a very odd ship yours must be," said Dick. "Is it a steamer, or a sailing vessel, please?"

"Oh, it's partly a sailing vessel and partly a rowing boat," said the Skipper. "She's a very fine ship," he added, proudly, "come and have a look at her."

The children followed him to a kind of rough harbor, where a most extraordinary craft was moored. She looked very like a picture which all the children remembered having seen in an old book at home, and although there was a small sail, a number of gaily-painted paddles sticking through the side of the huge boat, showed that, as the Skipper had said, rowing played a very important part in moving it along.

"What a dear old-fashioned thing," exclaimed Marjorie, directly she saw it.

The Skipper looked rather hurt. "It isn't more than a thousand years old," he remarked.

"Well, that's an awful long time for a ship to last, isn't it?" said Marjorie, pleasantly.

"Our family is much older than that," chimed in the Dodo, consequentially. "We date back to——"

"Oh, please don't go into ancient history," said the Skipper, "I can't bear it; it reminds me so of my younger days, when I was first learning to skip."

"What do you mean?" asked the children.

"Why, when I was a little boy, you know," explained the Skipper, "I used to skip all the dry parts of a book—and the pages and pages I used to skip of my ancient history you'd never believe. It was that which decided my parents upon making me a Skipper. 'He'll never do for anything else,' they used to say?"

"Well, are you going aboard or not?" he added, "because, if so, we ought to be starting."

"Oh, yes, let's go," pleaded Marjorie, "we might just as well be on board as at this place, you know, and we shall, at any rate, be going somewhere, and perhaps we shall find some one who knows the way to England on the sea."

So the children and the Dodo went aboard, and the Skipper blew a little whistle, which he wore tied around his neck by a white cord, and the sailors all came running up, bringing their spinning wheels, which they packed away at the bow of the vessel, and then settled themselves down at the oars. At the other end was a cosy little cabin, and above it a small deck, upon which the little passengers made themselves quite comfortable, and the Captain ordered the scales to be brought up from below.

"What are they for?" asked Dick, who, boy-like, always wanted to know the reason for everything.

"To weigh the anchor with," explained the Skipper, seriously. "We always have to weigh it when we start on a voyage, and again when we reach our journey's end."

"What for?" asked Dick, who certainly remembered having heard the expression "weighing the anchor" before.

"Oh, I don't know, I'm sure," said the Skipper; "pack of nonsense, I calls it; but it's the custom, and it's got to be done."

So the anchor was duly weighed, and the exact weight put down in a book, and the Argosy, as the ship was called, slowly moved out of the harbor.

It was a beautiful day, but there was just a little breeze blowing, and the sea was a little "choppy" outside, and, as a consequence, the Argosy rolled a little.

After they had been out at sea for about an hour, and the Skipper had been letting them take turns in looking through his telescope, the Dodo suddenly muttered something about having "forgotten his pocket-handkerchief," and hurried down into the cabin.

"Why, I didn't know he had one," said Marjorie, wonderingly.



The Skipper winked, and said in a whisper behind his hand, "They always say that; he's gone to lie down, the motion of the boat has made him feel a little seasick."

The Dodo didn't come up for a long while and at last the Skipper said he would go down and see if he wanted anything.

He found the poor bird looking the picture of misery, lolling limply against the cushioned seat.

"Hope you're feeling better, Sir," he said, respectfully, tugging at his forelock.

"Oh! oh!" groaned the Dodo. "Do throw me overboard, and let me die."

"Nonsense," said the Skipper, cheerfully. "You'll be all right in an hour or two."

"Oh, no," said the bird; "I shall never be well again. I have never, never felt so ill in all my life."

"Lie down, Sir, and I'll cover you up with this rug," said the Skipper, kindly; "you'll be better presently."

"Don't tell the others," gasped the bird, faintly.

"All right, Sir," was the reply, and the Skipper went on deck again.

The breeze was quite fresh still, and the children had climbed up into the "lookout," and were pointing eagerly into the distance.

"Land! over there!" shouted Dick, when he saw the Skipper.

"Oh! Ah! It's an island," said the Skipper. "I've been there before. The Archaeopteryx lives there."

"The what?" cried the children.



"The Archaeopteryx," repeated the Skipper. "It's an awful name, isn't it?"

"What is he?" demanded Dick.

"A kind of lizardish bird, or a birdish lizard, whichever you like," was the reply. "He's a great swell, I can tell you, and fancies himself immensely."

The children were all eagerness to see this strange creature, and could scarcely wait until the ship reached the land.

The Skipper went down and told the Dodo, who, directly he heard that they would meet the Archaeopteryx, made a great effort to pull himself together again.

"I mustn't let him see me in this state," he declared. "He is a distant relative of mine, and a person of great consequence. Do you think," he continued, addressing the Skipper, "that you could clean up my gloves a little with some bread crumbs, they have become slightly soiled; and would you kindly rearrange my necktie?"

These necessary preparations completed, the Dodo staggered up on deck just as the Argosy reached the shore.

The Archaeopteryx was waiting for them on the beach, and recognized the Dodo immediately.

"Charmed to meet you again," he said, hurrying forward to meet him, and raising his hat, with a polite bow. "Pray, introduce me to your friends."



CHAPTER XIII.

THE LITTLE PANJANDRUM'S BALLOON.

"Delighted to make your acquaintance," said the Archaeopteryx, when the necessary introductions had been made. "I've often wanted to meet some human beings; come and have luncheon with me. I've a couple of old friends staying here who will be delighted to see you." So saying, he led the way to where two most extraordinary-looking creatures sat waiting at a table, which was set for seven people.

"Both antediluvians," whispered their host, "the Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium. Capital chaps, but crotchety."

Fidge was a little alarmed at first, for they were really very ugly. They seemed quite amiable, however; and the Palaeotherium—his mouth full of banana—motioned them to seats at the table, and, turning to the Dodo, said, "Haven't I seen you before?"

The Dodo smirked, and, smoothing his gloves, said, in a self-conscious voice, "Very possibly we may have met before. I don't remember you, but mine is a face which one is not likely to forget. Where did we meet, do you think?"

"I'm trying to remember," said the Palaeotherium, "it must have been several hundreds of years ago now, and my memory is getting so bad——"

"I once stayed with the Ichthyosaurus," said the Dodo. "It may have been there."

"Ah, that must have been it," said the Palaeotherium. "I met a curious lot of people there—very mixed lot of associates he had, to be sure."

"Ahem," said the Dodo, indignantly. "I hope you don't mean that I——"

"My dear Sir," replied the other, "I'm quite sure you are highly respectable; your gloves alone are a guarantee for that."

"Thanks," said the Dodo, looking quite happy again.

"Do you know any riddles?" asked the Eteraedarium, suddenly, addressing Dick.

"Let's see," said he, glad that the conversation had taken a turn which they could all understand. "I think I do know a few. Why is a robin like a waterbut?"

"First of all," said the Archaeopteryx, anxiously, "what is a robin, and who is a waterbut?"

"Oh, a robin," explained Marjorie, "is a dear little bird with a red breast that comes in the winter——"

"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "one thing at a time. What is a bird?"

"Oh, I say! You must know what a bird is," expostulated Dick.

"I don't," said the Palaeotherium, stubbornly.

"Why—why—the Dodo is a bird," explained Dick.

"Yes, but nothing like a robin, Dick, dear," added Marjorie; "a robin is such a sweet, pretty little thing——"

"Well, I never!" exclaimed the Dodo, "do you mean to say I'm not a pretty little thing?"

"Well, you're not quite like a robin, are you?" said Marjorie, getting out of the difficulty very cleverly.

"Not quite, perhaps," admitted the Dodo; "but I am pretty," he added decidedly.

"I don't see what all this has to do with my conundrum," said Dick.

"Well, let's try again," said the Archaeopteryx. "Why is a robin like a waterbut?"

"A robin is a bird that comes in the winter," repeated the Eteraedarium, "and the waterbut—is that also a bird?"

"Oh, no," laughed Marjorie; "a waterbut is a tub for holding water."

"Can it fly?" asked the Eteraedarium.

"Of course not!" said Dick; "who ever heard of such a thing?"

"Well, is it like a robin? That's the point," said the Palaeotherium.

"Not in appearance," admitted Dick. "Will you give it up?" he added, looking around the table.

"Give what up?" asked the creatures.

"The conundrum," replied Dick.

"I haven't got it," declared the Dodo.

"Nor have I." "Nor I." "Nor I," said the others.

"No, no! I mean, will you give the answer up?" said Dick, losing patience.

"But we haven't it," said the Archaeopteryx.

"Look here, I'll tell you what we'll do," said the Palaeotherium, generously: "I'll give up the robin, and my friend here will give up the waterbut. There!"

"Now that's settled," said the Dodo, conclusively, "I'll ask you a conundrum. 'If your wife's aunt is——'"

"Stop! stop!" said the Palaeotherium, "I haven't got a wife, you know."

"No," said the Eteraedarium, "he hasn't, and, if he had, she very likely would not have an aunt. Make it my wife's aunt."

"All right," said the Dodo. "If your wife's aunt is my brother's son, what relation is Dick to Tom?"

"You haven't asked it right," said Dick, who knew a riddle something like that. "It's 'if this man's father is that man's son, what relation is Dick to Tom?'"

"I wish you wouldn't interfere," said the Dodo. "I tell you the question is right as I asked it."

"But your wife's aunt couldn't be anybody's son," said Marjorie, who was trying to puzzle it out.

"Who said she was?" snapped the Dodo, crossly; "she is as likely to be anybody's son as a robin is to be like a waterbut, and besides, I didn't say she was; I said, if she was, you know."

"Well, let's work it out," said the Eteraedarium, spreading out his fingers. "Let's see, that's my wife's aunt," he continued, pointing to his thumb, "and that's my brother's son," he added, touching the next finger, "and the other two will do for Dick and Tom. Now—er——"

"Who is the other finger?" interrupted the Dodo, anxiously.

"Me," said the Palaeotherium, solemnly and ungrammatically.

"It isn't," declared the other.

"It is," repeated the Palaeotherium.

"Oh, very well! let it be so," cried the Archaeopteryx, impatiently. "What's the answer, anyhow?"



"I don't know," said the Eteraedarium, staring at his fingers stupidly. "I don't see what relation those two fingers are to the other two. Well, what relation is Dick to Tom?" he asked, turning to the Dodo.

"The same relation that the robin is to the waterbut," said that bird, conclusively. "Come on, let's get the Skipper to teach us how to dance a hornpipe," and he led the way from the table, quite disregarding the fact that the others had not finished.

The Skipper, who had been quite as puzzled as the others were by these extraordinary conundrums, willingly agreed, and, first of all, danced a hornpipe himself very successfully, and then did his best to teach the others.

The Dodo, with his short legs and big body, very soon gave up trying, and, thoroughly worn out by the exertion, lay panting on the shingle, while the Eteraedarium took his turn. He got along capitally, and the children laughed heartily at the queer capers which he cut.

They were in the midst of the fun, when the Dodo suddenly jumped up, and, pointing excitedly up into the air, cried, "Look! Look! What's that?"

They all looked in the direction which he indicated, and after a time discerned a tiny speck in the sky, which the Skipper declared, after watching some time, to be a balloon.

"It's all red," cried Marjorie, whose eyesight was very keen.

"What!" exclaimed the Dodo, trembling. "Red! Are you sure?" he inquired, anxiously.

"Certain," said Marjorie.

"Yes," said Dick, "I can see it now; it's quite red—a bright scarlet, in fact."



"The Little Panjandrum's State Balloon!" gasped the Dodo, in a terrible fright. "Oh, my dear friends, hide me somewhere! If he finds me I'm done for! I've—got—his gloves on—oh! How could I have been so foolish as to have taken them—it's all my pride—and now I shall have to suffer for it—oh!—oh!" And the Dodo, quite overcome with fear and anxiety, fell upon his knees and sobbed violently.

Meanwhile the state balloon belonging to His Importance the Little Panjandrum rapidly drew near.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE DUFF AND DEM EXECUTIONER.

"Can you see who's in it?" asked the Dodo, anxiously, when the balloon had drawn a little nearer.

"Two gentlemen," declared Marjorie, whose eyesight was very keen. "And one is carrying such a funny stick, with a big hand at the top of it."

"And the other one has just put on a hideous black mask, and has a curious kind of pole with a sort of scythe at the end," chimed in Dick.

"What!" screamed the Dodo, "a black mask! Then it's the Lord High Executioner, and the other is the Court Glover. Oh dear! oh dear! what will become of me? I wish I'd never seen the wretched old gloves."

The balloon by this time was almost directly overhead and was descending rapidly. Presently two ropes were thrown out, and a muffled voice cried, "Catch hold of these, please."

Dick politely ran forward and hung on to one rope, while Marjorie and Fidge took the other.



The occupants of the balloon then lowered some wooden steps, and gravely descended, the Lord High Executioner leading the way.

The balloon, lightened of its occupants, bounded upwards again, and the children (who had the greatest difficulty in hanging on to the ropes) called to the Archaeopteryx and the others to come to their aid. To their great surprise, however, they discovered that these creatures, taking the Dodo with them, quietly slipped away.

The Court Glover and the Executioner helped the children to fasten the balloon to one of the large palm trees, and then the Court Glover, folding his arms, turned to them abruptly and inquired, "Where is he?"

"Who do you mean, Sir?" asked Dick.

"The Dodo," was the response.

"Oh! the Dodo! Why, he was here just now. I expect he has gone off with the Archaeopteryx and the others," said Dick.

"The what!" exclaimed the Court Glover.

"The er—Archaeopteryx," said Dick, hesitatingly, fearing that he might have mispronounced the name.

"H'm! You see," said the Court Glover, addressing the Executioner, "to what depths this misguided bird has fallen, to actually associate with an animal bearing a name of that description. I suppose it is an animal, by-the-bye," he added, turning to the children.

"Well," laughed Marjorie, "we are not quite sure. The Dodo says it's a kind of lizard-like bird, or bird-like lizard."

"It's got feathers," chimed in Fidge.

"Ough! The miserable creature doesn't even know what it is itself, I expect," said the Court Glover, in tones of disgust.

"The others," said Dick reflectively, "are evidently animals—the Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium, you know."

"Look here," interrupted the Court Glover, severely, "you really must not use such disgraceful language. I am not accustomed to it."

"Why, they are only names," explained Dick, smilingly.

"Very well, then. Call the creatures thingummybobs; I shall know what you mean—only don't use those other awful words again, they're outrageous. Now then, to come to the point—where is that Dodo?"

"I'll try and find him," said Dick, obligingly, running off in the direction of some bushes, behind which he imagined that he might possibly find the runaways.

"Is your—er—chopper ready?" said the Court Glover, turning to the executioner.

"He—he—he—ye—es!" giggled that worthy.

"Oh! If you please," pleaded Marjorie, "I do hope you are not going to execute the poor Dodo. I'm sure he's very sorry that he took the Little Panjandrum's gloves, and he will give them back, I know. Please, please, forgive him."

"He—he—he!" giggled the Executioner again.

"Do be quiet," shouted the Court Glover.

"Yes, I don't see anything to laugh at," said Marjorie indignantly.

"Oh, he's always laughing," declared the Court Glover; "that's why he has to wear a mask—so that people shan't see him laughing while he is chopping off their heads. It's so rude, you know, to giggle at a time like that, isn't it?"

"I should think so, indeed," cried Marjorie, in a horrified voice; "perfectly disgraceful, I call it."

"That's what the last man who was executed said," declared the Court Glover. After it was all over he said, "Well, I was never so disgracefully executed before in all my life; and I hope the next time you chop off my head, you'll get some one else to do it.'"

"I don't understand," said Marjorie, who was dreadfully puzzled. "How could he say all that after he was executed?"

"Why not?" asked the Court Glover, composedly.

"Why, people can't talk when they are killed, you know," said Marjorie.

"He—he—he!" sniggered the Executioner, putting his hand up to his mouth under his mask.

The Court Glover frowned at him. "Bless you, they aren't killed!" he said.

"Not killed, when they are executed!" cried Marjorie.

The Executioner giggled louder than ever, and shook his head.

"What do you mean?" asked Marjorie.

"Don't ask me, I'm duff and dem," said the Executioner.

"He means dem and duff," explained the Court Glover, considerately.

Marjorie laughed, and so did Fidge. "You are both wrong," she said. "You mean deaf and dumb, I suppose. But I don't think that can be the case, for he must have heard me, because he answered my question, you know."

"I didn't say anything about being deaf or dumb, either. I simply said I was duff and dem, and I defy you to prove to the contrary," said the Executioner, stubbornly.

Marjorie was quite bewildered; but there was no time for further argument, for, just then, Dick and the Archaeopteryx returned, supporting the Dodo (who appeared half dead with fright), and followed by the Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium, walking arm in arm.

"Ah! now we will settle this little matter," said the Court Glover, placing himself in an imposing attitude, and motioning the Executioner to stand a little way behind him.

The Dodo prostrated himself before them, the tears streaming from his eyes, and the offending gloves thrown on the ground in front of him.

"Miserable fowl!" began the Court Glover.

The Dodo winced.

"To what degraded depths have you sunken! I find you here hob-a-nobbing with thingummybobs and what's-his-names."

"Here, I say, hold on!" interrupted the Archaeopteryx. "If you mean us, you know, we are——"

"Thingummybobs and what's-his-names," repeated the Court Glover, waving his hand contemptuously. "Was it to create an impression amongst such creatures as these that you ran off with the very best pair of white kid gloves in the whole collection belonging to His Importance the Little Panjandrum? Oh, Dodo! Dodo! Dodo! it is too much!"

"How much too much?" inquired the Palaeotherium, kindly taking out his purse.

The Court Glover waved him aside with an impatient scowl.

"The vanity of the bird!" he went on—"white kid, above all others! Why, you might have taken a dozen pairs of colored cotton gloves, and no one would have minded in the least; but best white kid—oh! shocking! shocking! And look at the state you've made them in! But there—what can be expected of a creature that goes wandering about the world visiting what-you-may-call-ems."



"Of course, there's nothing to be done," continued the Court Glover, after an impressive pause, "but to execute you."

The Dodo sobbed; and Marjorie, who was greatly concerned, began: "Oh, please——"

But the Court Glover was inexorable, and murmured solemnly, "In one hour's time—here," he walked off towards the balloon, followed by the Executioner, who was giggling idiotically, and had to stuff a handkerchief into his mouth to prevent himself from laughing outright.

"Inhuman wretch—there!" said Marjorie, bursting into tears, while the Dodo's friends assisted him up from the ground, where he was lying in a half-fainting condition.

"Bear up, old man," said the Archaeopteryx, sympathetically, fanning him with his tail.

"When did he say?" inquired the Dodo, faintly.

"In an hour's time," said Dick, sadly.

The Dodo shuddered.

"Stop!" said the Eteraedarium, suddenly. "I think I have found a way out of the difficulty."

"Oh! what is it? What is it?" cried the Dodo, eagerly; while the others all crowded round to hear what the Eteraedarium had to say.



CHAPTER XV.

THE EXECUTION OF THE DODO.

"Let us pretend," suggested the Palaeotherium, "that the Dodo is dead. They will readily imagine that the shock has been too much for him, and, of course, being dead, there will be no necessity to execute him."

"He—he—he! Very nice indeed. A capital arrangement!" giggled a voice over the children's shoulder; and, turning round, they beheld the Executioner, who had apparently overheard everything that had been said.

"Bother!" remarked the Palaeotherium; "now I shall have to invent some other way."

"I can't think," said the Executioner, who had removed his mask, and who the children discovered to be a very amiable-looking gentleman—"I can't think why you are making all this fuss about the execution."

"Well, how would you like it yourself?" asked the Dodo, indignantly.

"I shouldn't mind in the least," remarked the Executioner, coolly.

"Not mind being killed!" shuddered the children.



"Oh, that's another question entirely," said the Executioner. "I never kill anybody when I chop their heads off. It would be so cruel; besides, that old-fashioned way is so ordinary. I am the Executioner Extraordinary, you know."

"Well, how on earth do you execute people, then, if you don't kill them?" demanded Dick.

"Oh, by a new method, which I have invented myself," declared the Executioner. "I call it execution by proxy. I just make an effigy."

"What's that?" inquired Marjorie.

"Don't interrupt," said Dick. "Guy Fawkes is an effigy, you know—an old stuffed thing, with a mask on. Go on, please."

"Well, then," continued the Executioner, "having made an effigy, as near like my subject as possible, I just chop its head off, and there is an end of the matter."

He looked around at the company, and smiled triumphantly.

Marjorie gave a sigh of relief. She didn't so much mind the execution taking place if the poor Dodo was not to be killed. To her great surprise, however, on looking at that interesting bird, she discovered that he was weeping copiously, and wiping with an elaborate lace handkerchief, which had evidently been concealed about his person, the tears which trickled slowly down his great beak.

"What's the matter, poor goosey, goosey, gander?" said Fidge, sympathetically.

"Don't!" snapped the Dodo, crossly. "I'm not a goose."

"Well, what is the matter, anyhow?" said Dick. "They are not going to chop your head off it appears; so you ought to be glad, and not snivel like that."

"I d—don't want to—to be—e m—made a guy of," sobbed the Dodo.

"What do you mean?" asked the Executioner.

"Why, you said you would have to make an effigy of me; and he" (pointing to Dick) "said it was a kind of Guy Fawkes, didn't you?" he added appealing to Dick.

"Well, never mind," said the Archaeopteryx, sympathetically; "you have the consolation that they couldn't make you a bigger guy than you are."

Strangely enough, the Dodo seemed to derive a considerable amount of comfort from this idea, and, wiping away the few remaining tears, he began to take an active interest in the manufacture of the effigy, which the others set about constructing without further delay.

"Is it like me?" he asked, conceitedly, as they bound some cloths to a piece of stick, in such a way that they bore some slight resemblance to a bird.

"Dear me, what a pity! I'm not moulting, or you might have had one or two of my feathers to stick on for a tail," he added.

"H'm! I shouldn't have thought you had any to spare for moulting purposes," said the Archaeopteryx.

"Don't be unkind," retorted the Dodo; "you haven't many to boast of."

"I've more than you have, anyhow," said the Archaeopteryx.

"Oh, for goodness' sake leave off quarreling. What on earth does it matter how many feathers you have?" said Dick.

"Not to a boy, I suppose," remarked the Dodo, somewhat insolently; "but no respectable bird would care to be seen about with less than five; though, undoubtedly, too many are vulgar"—this with a scornful glance at the Archaeopteryx's tail, which was decorated with quite a number of curious flat feathers.

I don't know how much longer this wrangling would have gone on, had not the Court Glover just then made his appearance.

"Time's up!" he announced, sternly. "Are you prepared for execution, Dodo?"

"Not quite," answered the Executioner, who was putting the finishing touches to the effigy; "his head keeps tumbling off."

"Never mind, it will save cutting it off," said the Court Glover, who was evidently quite used to the Executioner's patent method of performing his dreadful duty.

"Now then," he continued importantly. "Stand round in a ring while I read the Warrant. 'Ahem! Nevertheless, likewise, notwithstanding, heretofore, as is aforesaid. It having been proven that a certain bird named the Dodo having maliciously and contemptibly worn the white kid gloves of the Little Panjandrum, it is hereby enacted that the said Dodo, or his heirs male, or assigns, be chopped at the neck till one or all of their respective heads do fall off—and this to be done to their entire satisfaction. LONG LIVE THE PANJANDRUM!'"



"What a rigmarole!" whispered Dick, while the Executioner stretched out the Dodo's effigy on the ground, and, resuming his hideous black mask, made ready to strike.

"Alas! Alas!" murmured the Court Glover, covering his face with his hands, and peeping through his fingers, while the Dodo held his sides with suppressed laughter.

The children all looked on with interest as the Executioner performed his terrible duty. Raising his curious scythe-like chopper, with one mighty blow he severed the piece of wood which answered for the Dodo's neck, and then stood gloomily aside.

"Fiat Justitia!" said the Court Glover, solemnly; and then, turning to the Dodo, he inquired anxiously, "Well, how did you like it?"

"Oh! it was delightful!" replied the bird, enthusiastically. "I am sure no one could wish to have a pleasanter or more delightful execution. I'm much obliged to you for having it so nicely performed."

"Well, we always like to manage these little things as pleasantly as possible, you know," said the Court Glover, deprecatingly.

"Oh! I quite enjoyed it!" said the Dodo. "That's a very nice Executioner you have."

"Yes; isn't he?" agreed the Court Glover. "Pity he laughs so much, though, it spoils the effect. Well, having done my duty, I must be off. Any message for the Little Panjandrum?"

"Oh! can't we go back with you in the balloon?" asked Marjorie, eagerly, for it seemed to her a capital opportunity of getting away from this strange place.

"H'm! I'm afraid not," said the Court Glover, reflectively. "You see, it only holds two comfortably."

"Where do you want to go to?" asked the Archaeopteryx.

"England!" said the children, all together.

"Oh! that's all right. I'll tell you the way to get there," said the Palaeotherium.

And the Court Glover and the Executioner began to undo the cords which held the balloon to the palm tree.

"You might leave me your card," said the Dodo to the Executioner, pressing a small coin into his hand. "I shall probably go in for a complete course of execution when I get back again; and, besides, the address of a good, reliable Executioner is a handy thing to have in the house."

The Executioner giggled, and handed the bird his card, and then both he and the Court Glover got into the car, and the balloon was soon vanishing in the distance.

After watching them nearly out of sight the Dodo capered wildly about till the children began to fear that he had suddenly gone off his head.

"Whatever is the matter?" inquired Dick. "Why are you carrying on in that absurd way?"

The Dodo fumbled beneath one wing, and drew forth a little paper package.

"Ha! ha! ha! They went away without the gloves after all!" he shrieked, and began to roll about on the ground in an uncontrollable fit of laughter.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE PREHISTORIC DOCTOR.

"I can't imagine," said Dick, "why you think such a lot of those wretched old gloves. They seem to have got you into quite enough trouble already."

"They look so respectable," explained the Dodo, "and give one such an air. You have never before seen a bird wearing gloves, now, have you?" he added, appealing to the company generally, who were obliged to flatter his vanity by confessing that they never had.

Dick, however, in a spirit of pure mischief, decided to play him a trick. So, when the Dodo, having put on one glove, strutted away to show off before the Archaeopteryx, leaving the other one behind him, Dick quickly picked it up and put it on himself, then calling to aid the power which the Panjandrum's Ambassador had given him of being able to make himself whatever size he wished, he cried, "I wish to be as big as the biggest giant that ever lived," and immediately became so tall that the Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium, who were standing near, fled in dismay, while Marjorie and Fidge looked up with the greatest of admiration to their now big—big brother.

Dick then telling them, in a voice that sounded like thunder, to stand aside, took off the glove, which had, of course, grown with him, and threw it on to the ground, where it lay a huge mass of coarse leather as many feet long as it had formerly been inches, and with buttons almost as big as dinner plates.

It was, of course, the easiest matter imaginable for Dick to reduce himself to his proper size again, while the glove remained as it was, and this he very quickly did, to the evident relief of the poor Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium, who had been trembling and quaking behind a clump of trees, and looking with the greatest disquietude at these extraordinary proceedings.

"This is fine growing weather, Sir," remarked the Palaeotherium, respectfully, as he came forward and stood by Dick beside the enormous glove.



Dick laughed, and rather delighted in the evident impression which he had made upon the creatures by his performance, and a moment after the Dodo returned, looking about him eagerly in search of his lost property.

"What's the matter?" inquired Dick, solicitously.

"Er—have any of you seen a white kid glove lying about?" said the Dodo, anxiously.

"Is that it?" asked Dick, pointing to the enormous object lying at his feet.

The Dodo gave a start.

"Er—er—oh—my!" he exclaimed. "I do believe—why, surely it isn't—yes—yes—bless me, if I don't believe that it really is my glove. Why, whatever has happened to it?"

"It certainly looks rather large for you," remarked the Palaeotherium.

"Large! why it's prodigious!" exclaimed the Dodo.

"What size do you wear?" asked Marjorie, who was enjoying the fun.

The Dodo undid the glove which he had on and looked inside.

"Sevens," he remarked.

"And this," said Dick, kicking the enormous glove open, "is marked ninety-nines!"

"I don't believe I could wear that size," said the bird, disconsolately. "Whatever is to be done?"

"I should get inside it altogether, if I were you," suggested Dick.

"Don't be ridiculous," said the Dodo, beginning to cry. "It's bad enough to—to—have one's gloves car—carrying on in this fas-fashion, without being laughed at by—by a parcel of cre—creatures that don't care anything about their per—per—personal appearance, and who—who nev—never wore a p—p—pair of gloves in their lives!"

"Oh!" cried Marjorie, "I'm sure we wear gloves when we are at home, don't we, Dick?"

"Of course," said he.

"And me, too," declared Fidge; "me wears goves."

"I don't believe it," sobbed the Dodo; "and if I did, I wouldn't, so there!"

"I think you are an awful cry-baby," said Dick; "I should be ashamed, if I were you, to be always sniveling about nothing."

The Dodo didn't answer, but sat down beside the enormous glove, and continued to sob and cry till his eyes, which were never very beautiful, became swollen and red, and his little lace handkerchief was wringing wet with his tears.

Marjorie, in her kind-hearted way, tried to comfort him, and privately suggested to Dick that, as the poor bird seemed so very much cut up about his glove, that he should restore it to its natural size again.

This, however, Dick positively refused to do for the present, and the Dodo becoming worse instead of better, the Archaeopteryx said he should go and fetch a doctor.

"Oh, do!" cried the Dodo, sitting up, and becoming interested at once. "I love doctors, they give you such nice stuff to take."

"Ough!" shuddered Marjorie.

"I'm sure they do, then," said the Dodo; "lovely little pills with sugar on them, and powders in jam—oh, lovely! Don't you think powders in jam delicious?" he asked, appealing to Dick.

"No; I certainly don't," was the reply, as the Archaeopteryx, followed by a funny-looking little old man, came running back.

The Prehistoric Doctor—for so the children found he was called—was dressed in a coarse coat made of bear's skin, under which was a spotless shirt-front and collar; an old-fashioned pair of horn-rimmed spectacles completed his costume, while some dangerous-looking surgical instruments projected from a rough pocket tacked on to the side of his coat.



"Ah!—h'm! and how are we feeling this morning?" he said, kindly, going up to the Dodo.

The bird turned up his eyes pathetically and gave a sigh.

"Like a dying duck in a thunderstorm," whispered Dick, and Marjorie had to hold her handkerchief to her mouth to keep from giggling out loud.

"Ah! How is the pulse?" continued the Doctor, in a soothing voice.

The Dodo gravely extended the pinion with the glove on it.

This seemed to puzzle the Doctor a little at first, but after looking at it for a moment through his spectacles, he fished an enormous silver watch out of another pocket in his skin coat, and carefully pinching the glove between his finger and thumb, regarding his timepiece anxiously.

This operation over, he shook his head gravely, and demanded to see the Dodo's tongue.

"Oh! I couldn't!" simpered the bird; "I really couldn't; it's so rude to put out one's tongue, you know."

A little persuasion, however, on the part of the Doctor prevailed upon him to open his enormous beak, and the examination was proceeded with.



"Tut! tut! this is serious!" exclaimed the Doctor, regarding the Dodo's tongue critically. "We must have a change of air immediately, and thorough rest. I will go and make you up a little prescription, and I would advise you to start at once. The air at—er—the Crystal Palace would suit you admirably. There is an excursion starting to-day. I should certainly go by that if I were you."

"The Crystal Palace! Why, that's near London!" cried Marjorie, excitedly. "Can't we go by the excursion, too?"

"Of course you can," chimed in the Palaeotherium; "we'll all go, and make up a nice little family party."

So, without further ado—the Doctor having made up his prescription, consisting of a large bottle of "bull's eyes," one to be taken every quarter of an hour—they hurried to the station, at the door of which a most energetic porter was ringing a huge bell.



CHAPTER XVII.

WAITING FOR THE TRAIN.

They found, on reaching the station, which was a very primitive affair with a thatched roof, that the booking-office was closed.

"Clerk be goned away for 'ees 'oliday," explained the Porter, with a grin.

"Then whatever are we going to do about tickets?" asked Marjorie, anxiously, for the trip to the Crystal Palace seemed to afford such an excellent opportunity of getting home again that she was anxious not to miss it.

"He may be back before the train comes in," said the Archaeopteryx; "there doesn't seem to be one in sight, and we often have to wait weeks and weeks for a train here, you know."

"But what was he ringing the bell for, then?" inquired Dick, "if the train isn't coming in."

"I seed some smoke awhile ago, over yonder," said the Porter, "and I thought maybe 'tmight be th' train, but like as not it isn't."

"Then we have had this long run for nothing," complained the Dodo, breathlessly.

"Calm yourself, my dear Sir," said the Doctor, patting him on the back; "excitement of any kind is very bad for you. We will wait here quietly till the train does come."

"But isn't there a time-table?" asked Dick, "so that we can tell when to expect it."

"No, Sir," said the Porter. "There was a time-table when I fust come here, nine years ago; but it got lost somehow, and we've never had another."

By this time the platform was crowded with a number of other animals, who had apparently come to join the excursion.

"We had better get our tents before they are all gone," whispered the Palaeotherium.

"Ah, yes, of course," said the Eteraedarium. "Er—Porter, just bring us some tents, will you?"

"Tents?" exclaimed the children.

"Yes; if we are to stay here till the train starts we shall find it very awkward at night without tents, you know."

"Oh, yes, tents by all means," said the Archaeopteryx. "I think five will be sufficient," he added.



The Porter grumbled a little, and then brought forth from somewhere a number of poles and some canvas tents, and these the creatures began solemnly to erect on various parts of the platform.

The Dodo excused himself from assisting, on the plea that he might soil his gloves, and contented himself with fussing about and giving directions in a loud voice.

While the tents were being erected, the children amused themselves by exploring their surroundings.

"Oh! there's a refreshment room!" exclaimed Marjorie, pointing to a hole in the wall, on the ledge of which were displayed a few doubtful-looking articles.

"Shall I join you in a little light repast?" said an insinuating voice behind them, and turning around, they beheld the Dodo smoothing his glove and smirking ingratiatingly.

Dick felt in his pocket, and was delighted to find that he had a two-shilling-piece tucked away in a corner.

"Yes, we might as well have something," he said, generously. "I wonder who attends to this department? There doesn't seem to be anybody about."

He knocked at the wall with his two-shilling-piece, and, suddenly, an elderly lady, with a very sharp face and a shrill voice, popped her head up and exclaimed, "Well! what do you want?"

Dick was startled by her sudden appearance, and stammered a little.

"Er—er—a——" he began.

"A glass bun and a bath of milk, please," prompted the Dodo.

"No; he means a bath bun and a glass of milk," laughed Marjorie, smiling up at the lady's face.

There was no smile in response, however, and she replied, crossly, "Why doesn't he say what he means, then? We've no bath buns, and no milk," she went on. "There's a currant bun, a box of chocolates, and a bottle of gingerbeer. You can take them or leave them, whichever you like."

"Er—how much is the bun, please?" inquired Dick.

"Shilling," snapped the waitress.

"Dear me! that's rather expensive, isn't it?" said Dick, regarding his two-shilling-piece ruefully. "And I'm afraid it looks a little stale, too."

"Well, I never!" said the waitress, tossing her head scornfully, and shaking back her little corkscrew curls. "What next, I wonder? That bun has been here on and off for seventeen years, and I never had a complaint about it before. Stale, indeed!" And she sniffed scornfully.

"Perhaps we had better try the chocolate," suggested Marjorie. "Can you tell us, please, how many pieces there are in the box?" she asked.

"No, I can't!" was the ungracious reply. "It's half-a-crown," she added.

That, of course, put it out of the question, and as the gingerbeer bottle turned out to be empty, the contents having evaporated some years since, the children were obliged to turn, somewhat disconsolately, away from the "refreshment room," and as they left they heard the waitress complaining, crossly—

"I can't think what people want to come bothering for refreshments for, when I am busy reading; some folks have no consideration for others." And she disappeared as mysteriously as she had arrived.

A little further down the platform, to their great delight, they discovered an automatic machine, but were greatly disappointed to find that it only professed to supply "furniture polish," "tin tacks," and "postage stamps."

"And as we have no post-office here at all," said the Archaeopteryx, who had by this time joined them, "the stamps are of no use whatever. Fortunately," he went on, "the Palaeotherium brought some banana sandwiches in his carpet bag; so, if you come back with me to his tent, we can have a little supper before we go to bed."

The children very gratefully accepted the invitation, and were delighted on entering the tent to find that the Eteraedarium and the Palaeotherium had arranged quite a dainty little repast with the sandwiches, some fresh fruit, and cocoanut milk, which was served in the shell.

While the feast was progressing it began to grow quite dark, and the Dodo suggested asking the Porter for a light.

"There's only one candle," grumbled that individual, "and I be obligated to use that for the signal."

So there was nothing to be done but to hurry over the supper as soon as possible, and go to rest.

Marjorie and Fidge shared a little tent next to the Dodo and Dick, and the children made themselves as comfortable as they could, under the circumstances, with some cushions and rugs, with which the Porter had provided them; and, after chatting for a little while about their strange adventures, dropped off to sleep.

They were awakened after an hour or two by the clanging of a huge bell, and, hastily putting their heads out of the tent, beheld the Porter rushing up and down the platform, ringing his bell violently. The candle was flaring away at the top of the signal pole, and the children jumped to the conclusion that the train had been signaled.

"What's up!" called out Dick, as the Porter approached.

There was no answer, and the great bell was plied more vigorously than ever.

"Oh! do leave off!" screamed the Dodo. "What's the bell for?"

"To keep you awake," shouted the Porter. "I shall keep on ringing this bell all night to prevent you from going to sleep, in case the train comes in and you don't hear it."

"But the noise will drive us mad," expostulated the Dodo.



"H'm! won't have far to drive you, then," said the Porter, rudely. "Howsomedever, I'm going to do my duty, whatever happens, and this 'ere bell I'm going to ring if I drops."

Remonstrance was vain, and as it was hopeless to try and sleep through all the noise the children got up again, and had hardly done so, when, looking towards the end of the platform they beheld a red and a green light appearing around the curve, and a moment later the train dashed into the station.

"Crystal Palace train! Crystal Palace train! Take your seats, there!" shouted the Guard; and, regardless of the fact that they had no tickets, the children and their friends scrambled in.



CHAPTER XVIII.

A NIGHT IN THE TRAIN.

"What a funny puff-puff!" exclaimed Fidge, when, all of the creatures on the platform having entered the train, it slowly steamed out of the station, while the Porter took down the candlestick signal and carefully extinguished the light, remarking aloud, as he did so, "Well, thank goodness, they're gone!"

"I think," said Dick, looking about him curiously, "that it must be what is called a sleeping car."

"Yes, of course it is," agreed the Prehistoric Doctor, who had joined the party. "See, here are the sleeping bunks. This is mine," he added, taking possession of one of the lower berths by throwing his carpet bag on to it.

"I'll have the one above it," announced the Palaeotherium, climbing up to the upper berth, and clumsily treading on the Prehistoric Doctor's hand as he did so.

"I shall have to be near my Doctor, of course, as I am an invalid," remarked the Dodo, plaintively, "so shall take the lower berth next to him."

And thus each of the creatures took up their respective positions, and the children thought it best to follow their example. Dick and Fidge climbed up to one of the upper berths, and Marjorie made herself comfortable in the one below them.

"It's much better than being in those horrid little tents on the draughty station," she called out; "and we are sure to get to somewhere in this train, aren't we, Dick?"

"Yes, rather," was her elder brother's reply. "I say, Sis, what are we going to do when they ask us for our tickets at the Crystal Palace? I haven't got any money except this two shillings, have you?"

"Not a penny," admitted Marjorie. "However," she added, yawning sleepily, "I suppose it will all come right; none of the other creatures took tickets, you know. The great thing is to get back to England."

"There's a window up here, and I have just looked out," said Dick, "it's all pitch dark."

"Yes," murmured Marjorie; "Underground Railway to Crystal Palace; that's how we went last time, you know—part of the way, at any rate—let's go to sleep now. Good-night, Dick."

"Good-night."

"Nighty, nighty!" shouted Fidge.

"Good-night, Fidge, dear," was his sister's reply, in a very tired voice.

A moment afterwards the train gave a lurch, and there was a crash and a loud cry from one of the lower berths.

Dick hastily scrambled down to ascertain what was the matter, and found that the Dodo had tumbled out of bed.

"Bless my gloves and beak!" ejaculated the bird, as he picked himself up; "it's enough to frighten one out of their lives, isn't it?"

"Have you hurt yourself much?" inquired Dick, kindly.

"No; I don't think so," said the Dodo, carefully feeling himself all over to see if any bones were broken.

"How do you like my nightcap?" he inquired, suddenly and inconsequently. "Does it suit me?"

"Oh, it's all right, I suppose," said Dick, laughing in spite of himself at the bird's vanity. "Where did you get it?"

"Found it under my pillow," announced the bird, triumphantly. "That's why I tumbled out of bed, so that some one at any rate, should come and see me in it. Nobody else seems to be coming, though," he added, looking anxiously up and down, "so I shall go to bed again; but I shall leave my curtains wide open, so that if anybody passes by during the night, or in the morning, they will see how beautiful I am when I am asleep."

At that moment there was an awful noise like a deep groan, which grew and grew in volume till it sounded like distant thunder, and then faded away and ended up with a comical little whistle. Again and again it was repeated.

"Oh, Dick! what is it?" called Marjorie, putting her head outside the curtains.

"I can't think," said Dick, in a puzzled voice.

"Where have I heard that sound before?" exclaimed the Dodo, putting one finger of the glove to his forehead, and striking a thoughtful attitude.

"Ah! I have it," he cried. "Of course, it's a prehistoric snore—the Doctor is asleep."

And, sure enough, that was what the noise was. By listening outside the curtains of his berth they discovered, without a doubt, that it proceeded from there.

"What a frightful row," cried Dick, indignantly. "We can't go to sleep with all that noise going on. Let's wake him up."

"Oh, no!" cried the Dodo, "not for worlds. He is sure to be very sensitive on the point, and would doubtless resent it very much."

"He ought to be made to sleep in another part of the train, or in a carriage by himself," grumbled Dick, scrambling back to his berth just in time to meet Fidge, who was trying to get down at the risk of breaking his neck.

"Oh! Dick!" he cried, pointing to the further corner of the berth, "Look! Look! A snake!"

"What?" cried Marjorie, from below, with a little scream.

"A snake!" repeated Fidge. "Look, look, Dick!" he cried, pointing.

Dick looked in the direction indicated, and was horrified to see what he took to be a huge snake, slowly crawling over the partition which divided their berth from the next.

"Give me something to hit it with, quick!" he shouted, excitedly. And Marjorie, with another little frightened scream, handed him the Prehistoric Doctor's umbrella, which was lying on the floor outside her berth.

Dick seized the umbrella, and, grasping it with both hands, aimed a mighty blow at what he took to be the snake.

An agonized scream from the next berth, and a hasty withdrawal of the snake, was followed by the appearance of the Palaeotherium's head over the top of the partition.

"Who did that?" he demanded, with tears in his eyes.

"It was a snake!" cried Dick, excitedly, "and I was trying to kill it."

"Snake, indeed!" said the Palaeotherium, wrathfully. "It was my tail."

"Oh! I'm so sorry," exclaimed Dick, "I really thought it was a snake, you know. I beg your pardon. I do hope I haven't hurt you very much."

"H'm! Well, I can't say that it was very pleasant," said the Palaeotherium, "but if you are really sorry I'll forgive you—only you mustn't let it happen again."

"Shouldn't have a tail like a snake," said Fidge, half crying, "and shouldn't let it come over in our bed."

The Palaeotherium muttered something that neither of the children could understand, and retired, and, except for the Prehistoric Doctor's snoring, all was quiet again.

This time the children really did get to sleep, and when they awoke the carriage was quite light, and Dick, looking out through the little window at the side of his berth, could see that they were traveling through some very delightful country.

"Wake up! Wake up, Marjorie," he cried, "it's morning."

"I'm velly hungry," announced Fidge, sitting up and rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"Yes, so am I," admitted Dick; "we must see what we can do to get some food."

"The doors at the ends of the carriage are open," cried Marjorie, from below. "I believe it's a corridor train, like that we went to Scarborough in last year," she added. "Perhaps there's a dining-car at the end of this one."

Dick and Fidge scrambled down, and, accompanied by Marjorie, determined to explore.

None of the other creatures were apparently awake, and most of the curtains were drawn.

The Dodo, however, true to his word, had left his open, and there he lay in an affected attitude, with his gloves carefully displayed outside the bed-clothes, and his nightcap arranged at the most becoming angle.

Dick could see that he was not really asleep, for one eye was partially open, and as the children passed he murmured, quite loudly enough for Dick to hear—"Ain't I beautiful?"



Dick laughed, and passed on to where he could see some wash-basins and a water tap, and there the children had a most refreshing wash; and then, to their great delight, found that the next carriage was labeled—"BREAKFAST CAR"; and as it was the easiest matter in the world to step from one carriage to the other, they were soon at the door.

As soon as they opened it they beheld a curious sight.

There were a number of little tables in the carriage, on each of which were basins of steaming hot bread-and-milk.

The Eteraedarium stood at one of the tables, and, with a spoon in each hand, was greedily devouring the bread-and-milk as quickly as he possibly could.

"Come on!" he shouted, with his mouth full. "Just in time. There are one or two basins left; but make haste, before the others come, or you won't get any."



CHAPTER XIX.

AT THE CRYSTAL PALACE.

The bread-and-milk was very good, and the children enjoyed it immensely.

They would have taken a second basinful had the Eteraedarium been at all pressing in his invitation for them to do so; but instead of asking them in the usual way, "Will you have any more?" he said, in a very anxious tone of voice, "You won't have any more, will you?" which was, of course, a very different thing; and so they each meekly said, "No, thank you," and watched the Eteraedarium finish up the remaining basins.

"There now, I feel that I've done my duty," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction, as he wiped his lips with a serviette, after scraping out the very last spoonful.

"You see," he said, with a sort of half attempt at an apology, "I was afraid the poor, dear Dodo, in his delicate state of health, might come in to breakfast and eat more than was good for him; so, by eating the lot myself, I have prevented him from doing that. He ought to be very grateful to me, I'm sure."

"But what about the others?" asked Dick.

"Oh, great, strong, healthy animals like them, it will do them good to go without for once in a way. I think, though, that in order to prevent them from feeling any disappointment it will be better to throw the basins out of the window, the sight of them would probably be rather tantalizing." And the Eteraedarium began hurriedly to throw all the breakfast things out of the window—spoons, basins, tablecloths, and serviettes, all disappeared, and only the three basins which the children had been using remained.

They, doubtless, would have followed the others had not the Dodo, leaning heavily on the Prehistoric Doctor's arm, entered the breakfast car just at that moment.

"Ah! bread-and-milk—capital!" exclaimed the Doctor, rubbing his hands, and looking at the children's basins. "I think our patient could manage a small basinful, eh?"

The Dodo, with a great affectation of weakness, feebly nodded his head.

"I think I could manage a small basinful, Doctor—er—er—not too small, you know. A very small quantity never agrees with me."

"No, no; of course not," said the Doctor, soothingly. "I will see that it is not too small; and perhaps, just to encourage you, I will have a basinful myself."

"It's all gone!" said the Eteraedarium, suddenly and emphatically.

"Gone!" screamed the Dodo, in a loud voice, quite forgetting his supposed weakness. "Do you mean to say there is none left?"

The Eteraedarium shook his head.

"But where's it all gone to?" asked the Doctor.

The Eteraedarium solemnly pointed to the children.

"Pigs!" declared the Dodo, wrathfully.

"Here, who are you calling pigs?" demanded Dick, getting up angrily.

"Well, I must say that it was exceedingly greedy of you to devour all of the breakfast," said the Doctor, reprovingly.

"But we didn't," said Dick. "It was the Eteraedarium; he had ever so many basinsful. We only had one each, didn't we, Marjorie?"

"No," said Marjorie; "and mine was a very small one."

"And mine was the littlest of all," said Fidge, flourishing his spoon, "like the littlest bear's, you know, in the story of the Three Bears."

"Well, where are the other basins, then, if you say the Eteraedarium had such a lot?" demanded the Dodo.

"He threw them out of the window," declared the children.

"Oh! Oh! Well, I never—whatever will they say next?" cried the Eteraedarium, throwing up his hands and turning his eyes up to the ceiling.

"I must say it doesn't seem a very probable story," said the Doctor, looking out of the window; "and as I don't see any of the basins lying about I am afraid I cannot believe your statement."

"But that was some time ago," argued Dick, "and as we are traveling very rapidly they must be some miles down the line by this time."



"Rubbish!" exclaimed the Dodo, "you are only making matters worse by your lame excuses. I always had my suspicions that you were a greedy lot, like all the rest of the human creatures."

"Ahem!" coughed the Doctor, looking pained.

"Oh, you're prehistoric—that doesn't count," said the Dodo, and the Doctor brightened up again.

Fortunately, at this moment, something occurred to prevent the argument from continuing, or goodness knows where it might have led to, for the children were naturally indignant at being so greatly misjudged. Dick was particularly wroth. Their attention was diverted, however, by the train dashing into a station, and coming to a somewhat abrupt stop, causing the passengers to pitch forward, while a porter called in a loud voice, "Crystal Palace! Crystal Palace! All change here!"

"Oh! here we are, at last," cried the children, hurrying on to the platform where the animals were all turning out.

The porter had given one horrified glance at the strange creatures, and then, with a howl of fear, had fled up the steps at the end of the platform. The children could see that he was explaining something or other to the ticket collector, for that worthy came to the barrier and peeped over.

"Oh—o—o—a—aah!" the children heard him cry, and then he fled, as his companion had done, leaving the barrier free.

"Come," laughed Dick, "that simplifies matters considerably, for we shall not have to bother about our tickets now." And the children hurried up the stairs, while the Dodo remained behind to adjust his gloves, complaining loudly that notice ought to have been given that they were nearing the station, so that he might have made himself presentable before alighting.

On turning back, while on the steps, the children could see that, besides their own party, the train had contained a number of other strange animals, some of whom, the Archaeopteryx whispered, impressively, were "antediluvians."



The whole party having alighted, with a great deal of noise and confusion, they proceeded at once to the Palace. Everywhere their appearance was the signal for a wild stampede of other visitors, and by the time they had reached the great hall no one at all was in sight, except one old gentleman in glasses, who was consulting a guide book while he stood before a group of wooden Hottentots.

"Sh!" whispered the Dodo, "a Missionary! I have seen them before, when abroad. In some places they are greatly admired by the natives, some of whom have described them enthusiastically as being simply delicious! Let us be friendly to him; he is, no doubt, a very excellent man.

"My dear Sir," he continued, waddling up to the Missionary, "delighted to see you looking so well."

The Missionary, who was very short-sighted, beamed kindly, and grasped the Dodo's glove, while he peered up into his face through his glasses. On catching sight of his beak, however, he gave a gasp of astonishment, and stammered—

"I'm afraid, Sir, you've made a mistake. I—er—I—er—don't remember your face."

"Oh, well, it is some time since we met, certainly; but perhaps you know my friend?" said the Dodo, introducing the Eteraedarium, who came forward with an engaging grin.

The poor Missionary gave him a hasty glance through his glasses, and then, nervously clutching his guide book and umbrella, muttered something about "an important engagement," and fled in the direction of the big clock.

"Strange how nervous everybody is in my presence," murmured the Dodo, conceitedly. "It's doubtless my beauty and brilliant wit which alarms them; but, come on, let's go out to the lake, and I'll take you for a row."



So, having met with the Palaeotherium, they all three got into a boat.

The Dodo was a muff at rowing, though, and kept "catching a crab," which disaster he accounted for by declaring that the fishes would keep holding on to his oar when he dipped it into the water; but the Palaeotherium, who was in the bow of the boat, and consequently got all of the splashes and knocks with the oar, declared that this was all nonsense, and I am inclined to agree with him.



CHAPTER XX.

A DIFFICULTY WITH THE ROUNDABOUT.

While the Dodo and his friends were enjoying themselves on the lake, the children and the others were wandering about the grounds, and continually discovering fresh attractions. What puzzled them not a little, however, was the fact that there seemed to be no other visitors about, and even the attendants had disappeared in a most mysterious manner.

At the roundabout the steam was up, but there was apparently nobody in charge.

"What a pity," said Dick, "I should have liked very much to have gone around on the horses, wouldn't you, Marjorie?"

"I should," chimed in Fidge.

"Yes, it would have been rather jolly," said Marjorie. "Don't you think perhaps the Prehistoric Doctor could manage to set it going? Let's ask him."

"Well, my dear," said the Doctor, when consulted on the subject, "I don't know much about machinery, but I'll try, if you like."

"What's that?" inquired the Dodo, just then coming up, he having failed to get on with the rowing to his own or anybody else's satisfaction.

"Why, we are just discussing the question of setting this roundabout going," explained the Doctor.

"Pooh! the easiest thing in the world," said the Dodo. "You just get on, and I'll soon start you off."

"All right," cried the Doctor, getting astride one of the horses.

"Hold on!" cried the Palaeotherium; "let us get on, too."

And he and several of the others clambered up to their places.

"I think," whispered Marjorie, nervously, "that we had better wait and see how they get on, before trying ourselves."

"That's just like a girl," cried Dick—"afraid of everything."

"I'm not," replied Marjorie, indignantly; "I'm quite ready to go on, if you want to—only I thought——"

"All aboard!" interrupted the Dodo, pulling the lever.

"Stop! Stop!" shouted Dick; "we want to get on."

"Too late!" cried the Dodo. "You shall go on the next journey." And with a shriek from the steam-whistle the horses began to go around.

"There you are, you see," said the Dodo, complacently regarding the result of his efforts. "I said it was an easy matter to set them going."

Faster and faster grew the pace, till the Doctor, who at first seemed to be enjoying his ride immensely, suddenly threw his arms around his horse's neck, and gasped out, breathlessly—

"Oh! Oh! Stop them! They're running away?"

"Pooh! Nonsense!" cried the Dodo; "don't be a baby."

"Stop them! Stop them! Help! Help!" screamed the other poor creatures, as the horses whirled around faster and faster.

The Dodo went to the engine and tried to push the lever back again, but, to his great consternation, he found that he could not do so, and the only result of pulling another lever which he discovered was to make the machinery work more rapidly than before.

"Gracious!" cried Marjorie, wringing her hands, "whatever is to be done?" While even Dick turned a little pale, for the poor creatures were by this time whirling around so quickly that one could scarcely be distinguished from the other.

Every now and then the poor Palaeotherium might be heard screaming above the others, who were all calling out in their fright and alarm.

The Dodo left the engine, and came and stared at them.

"H'm!" he ejaculated. "I don't know what's to be done. If they don't stop soon, I suppose we shall have to shoot them. It's the only thing I can think of."

"Shoot them!" exclaimed Dick, in a horrified voice.

"Well, what else is to be done, I should like to know? We can't leave them here whirling around like that forever."

"I should think," suggested Dick, after vainly trying to push the lever back into its place himself, "that if we raked all the fuel out of the engine, it would probably stop of its own accord."

"Ah! happy thought," said the Dodo, and with all possible speed they set to work to carry out Dick's suggestion.

They were delighted to find that after a time their project was successful, and the machinery gradually ceased to work, and at last stopped altogether.

The poor creatures looked more dead than alive as with pale faces they clung limply to the upright supports attached to each of the horses.

The Doctor, weak though he was, was furious.

"Wretched, ungrateful creature!" he cried, getting painfully off his horse and going up to the Dodo. "This is how you reward me for having saved your life."

"I couldn't help it," whimpered the Dodo. "I couldn't, really."



"Bah! I've a great mind never to speak to you again," said the Doctor, disgustedly.

The other creatures now came up, and began to abuse the Dodo, too.

Fortunately, just in time to prevent a general squabble, the Eteraedarium, who had not been one of the number to patronize the roundabout, returned with the information that there were some swings a little way off.

Despite their unfortunate experience on the roundabout, there was a general rush on the part of the creatures for this new attraction, and the Dodo and the Eteraedarium had hard work to secure a swing for themselves.

"Shall I give you a push?" asked the Doctor, kindly, though with a curious gleam in his eye.

"Yes, please," said the Dodo, gratefully.

"All right," said the Doctor. "Hold tight!" And he gave a mighty shove, sending the swing high above all the others.

"It's very—very nice," gasped the Dodo, "but don't push any higher, please."

"Hold tight," said the Doctor, relentlessly, giving another shove, harder than before.

"Oh! please—please d—don't, or we shall be upset," implored the Dodo, nervously, as the swing shot up into the air.

"I'll teach you to twizzle me on the roundabout," cried the Doctor, vindictively. "Will you ever do it again?"



"Oh! no, n—no, never!" promised the Dodo.

"Well, one good one for the last, then," cried the Doctor, giving a final push, and then leaving the poor Dodo to his fate.

I don't think that it could have been a very dreadful one, however, for a few minutes later he had joined the three children and the Palaeotherium in a journey on the switchback.

Fidge, who had never been on one before, was delighted with the experience, and shouted, "Hooray! This is jolly!" as the car dashed down the steep incline.

The poor Palaeotherium, however, his nerves evidently greatly unstrung by his unfortunate experience on the roundabout, was dreadfully upset, and alarmed, and, hiding his eyes, he crouched at the bottom of the car till it reached the other end, when he at once got out, and no amount of persuasion would induce him to undertake the return journey.

He had scarcely got out into the grounds again, when he met the Archaeopteryx, who was carrying a strange-looking object, which he held up for the Palaeotherium's inspection.

"Your tail, I believe," he said.

The Palaeotherium gave a hasty glance at his back, and then said, in rather a shamefaced way—



"Thank you! Yes, it is. You see, I have been obliged to wear a false one for some time; I had no idea, however, that it had become detached." And he carefully adjusted it again, tying it on with a couple of tapes, and artfully concealing the ends.

"Our family," he whispered, "have no tails to speak of, and, as we look rather remarkable without them, most of us wear artificial ones; but please don't tell the others, they are sure to make fun of me, if you do."

"All right," promised the Archaeopteryx, kindly; "I won't, if you don't wish me to; but I——"

"Hist! hist!" interrupted a voice, and the Dodo, with a very scared face, peeped from behind a tree. "Who do you think is here?" he gasped.

"Who?" inquired the others, curiously.

"The Little Panjandrum himself," declared the Dodo. "I have just caught sight of him up by the Palace, and he looks so angry about something."



CHAPTER XXI.

THE LITTLE PANJANDRUM AT LAST.

"The Little Panjandrum!" exclaimed Marjorie, "I shall be glad to see him at last. What is he like?"

"Oh! don't bother me about him," cried the Dodo, impatiently; "he's all right as Panjandrums go, I suppose, but I don't want to get into his clutches again, I can tell you."

"Don't you, indeed?" remarked a voice, sarcastically. "Well, His Importance is particularly anxious to see you again, anyhow."

The Dodo gasped, and the children turning around beheld the Little Panjandrum's Ambassador.

"Hullo! you here, too?" he continued, when he recognized them. "Well, I must say, you have been long enough bringing this wretched bird along."

"I think you ought to be very grateful to us for having done so at all," said Dick, boldly. "What are you going to do with him now you have got him?"

"H'm! that remains to be seen," said the Ambassador, pursing his lips up tightly, and staring at the Dodo severely.



"Come along," he continued, catching hold of what would have been the Dodo's ear if he had had one, but which was in reality a sort of woolly fluff growing all over his head.

"Come along, and see your friend the Little Panjandrum."

"Leave go!" screamed the Dodo, "you hurt."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed the Ambassador, dragging him along, "it doesn't hurt me!"

"Oh! oh! I've dropped one of my gloves," cried the Dodo, pathetically.

"If you take my advice, you'll throw the other one away, too," said the Ambassador; "it will only make the Little Panjandrum more angry than ever to see them."

"They make me look so respectable," whispered the Dodo.

"Respectable!" said the Ambassador, contemptuously; "nothing would make you respectable—you ridiculous object, you."

"I think you are most un—un—ki—ki—kind," sobbed the Dodo, "you are always pi—pi—pi—pitching into m—me, and ca—ca—calling me n—n—nasty names. It—it—it's too bad."

"Oh, stop that noise," said the Ambassador, giving the Dodo's wool a twist; "I'm ashamed of you. Ah, here comes His Importance," he continued, as the sound of a drum was heard in the distance.

The children all eagerness to see the Little Panjandrum, stood in a line by the side of the pathway, while the Ambassador, keeping a firm hold on the Dodo, remained by their side.

The sound of the drum drew nearer, and the children could distinguish another sound mingling with it.

The Ambassador smiled blandly, while he kept time with his foot.

Presently the children caught sight of a curious procession approaching. The Little Panjandrum, a little fat man in Oriental costume, was preceded by two attendants—one playing a kind of drum, and the other a jew's harp, while a third attendant held an enormous umbrella over His Importance's head. On the top of the umbrella were a number of curious signs, of which the children could not possibly imagine the meaning.

"Obbly—bobblee—wallee—bobbel—ob," said the Ambassador, bowing three times, and dragging the Dodo's head down with him each time.

"Flop!" replied the Little Panjandrum, and the two musicians fell on their faces.

"Um—sopelee—gumbos—galapaloo—glab," remarked the Ambassador.

"Ploff!" said the Little Panjandrum, and the black slave at the back jigged the State Umbrella up and down several times very violently.



"What a funny language," whispered Marjorie. "I wonder what they are talking about?"

"Semlifee—dobbel—bingle—bingle—boff," cried the Ambassador, lifting up one leg, while the Dodo painfully followed his example.

The Little Panjandrum gravely kicked the two musicians, who were still prostrate on the ground before him, and they immediately arose and stood on one leg each, like the Ambassador. Then His Importance himself balanced himself in the same way. The black slave at the back, whose legs were attached to those of the Little Panjandrum, imitated him.

The children were highly interested in this proceeding, when the Ambassador, without speaking, motioned them to stand on one leg each, too.

"Come on, let's do it," said Dick, "and see what they are going to do."

So the three children solemnly hopped upon one foot, too.

For a moment or two no one spoke. And at last the Dodo, gasping out, "Oh! I can't keep it up any longer," fell to the ground, and everybody else put their leg down again.

"Ough!" said the Ambassador, in a disgusted voice. "Of course, you must needs spoil it all. Most disrespectful behavior to the Little Panjandrum, I call it."

"I couldn't help it," gasped the Dodo, apologetically.

"Oh, of course not," said the Ambassador. "A bad excuse is better than none."

"Well, I couldn't have kept it up much longer," declared Marjorie; "could you, Dick?"

"No," said Dick; "I can't think what we are doing it at all for."

"Court etiquette demands it," said the Ambassador, importantly. "Hush! His Importance is about to speak."

"Gobloblee! grabluff!" said the Little Panjandrum.

"Go on, Dodo," said the Ambassador. "Gobloblee, grabluff, at once when His Importance tells you."

The Dodo gave a sigh, and went up to the Little Panjandrum's Umbrella and gave it a twirl. When it stopped, a little finger at the top pointed to the word "Guilty," which was painted in large letters in one section of the Umbrella.

"Again," said the Ambassador.

The Dodo, looking very dejected, gave the Umbrella another twirl. This time it stopped at the words "Hard labor."

The Dodo groaned.

"Once more!" shouted the Ambassador.

For the third time the unlucky bird spun the Umbrella round, and this time it stopped at "Fine."

"How much, your Importance?" asked the Ambassador of the Little Panjandrum.

"Cablofechee!" was the reply.

"Your gloves are forfeited," declared the Ambassador.

The Dodo gave a despairing glance at the children, and began to remove his one glove.

"What's he being tried for?" asked Dick, in a whisper.

"Contempt of Panjandrumosity," said the Ambassador. "It's a dreadful offence. All trials are conducted by means of the State Umbrella; it saves all the bother of judges and juries, you know. But, look out! the Little Panjandrum is off again."

"Dumflopety—golopegee—gal—popo—sum—delopotomex," remarked the Little Panjandrum, as he walked away, escorted by his retinue.

"He says that your 'hard labor' sentence is, to carry the State Umbrella in future, and that you are to commence your duties in one hour from now; in the meantime you may consider yourself at liberty till then."

The Ambassador followed after the Little Panjandrum, and the children gathered around the poor Dodo, full of sympathy for his misfortunes.



"Have they gone?" whispered the Prehistoric Doctor, coming forward from behind a bush, behind which he had been hiding.

"Yes," said Marjorie. "Isn't it a shame the poor Dodo should always be getting into hot water?"

"Never mind," said the Doctor; "I've found something that will make him happy. Look here!"

The Dodo raised himself up from the ground, and gave an inquiring glance at the Doctor who held out a pair of boxing-gloves.

"Oh! what beauties!" said the Dodo. "How fat they are! Are they for me?"

"Yes, if you would like them," said the Doctor. "I have a pair, too. Let's try a round together—shall we?"

"All right!" shouted the Dodo, getting up excitedly, and hastily fastening on the gloves. "Now then—guard!" And he went for the Doctor furiously. The Doctor squared up, and was soon boxing as skilfully as the Dodo.

The Palaeotherium and the Eteraedarium, hearing the noise, came forward and joined the crowd of creatures, which by this time had collected in a ring. And amid shouts of "Go it, Dodo!" "Three cheers for the Dodo!" the first round concluded, the ungainly bird winning a decided victory. They were just about to begin again, when they heard a succession of piercing screams from the direction in which the lake was situated.



CHAPTER XXII.

TURNED TO STONE.

"Good gracious! what's that?" inquired the Dodo, as the screams continued.

"We'd better go and see," said Dick, practically running off in the direction of the lake, followed by the others.

On passing the clump of trees and evergreens, which obstructed their view, they discovered the Little Panjandrum, in a great state of agitation, hiding behind the official Umbrella, his body-attendant lying prone on the ground in a state of abject fear; while the rest of the suite, having cast aside their musical instruments, were rushing away, shouting lustily.

On the opposite side of the path stood a few of the prehistoric creatures which accompanied the children on their excursion to the Crystal Palace.

They were looking at the Little Panjandrum with a mild surprise, and seemed quite at a loss to know what all the hullabaloo was about.