Chapter IV: Part III: 50. The Doings at Home 139 (2)

Joe helped Sylvia on to the bear’s back, and she sat there with Tiger clasped to her because he was now a very silent pup owing to his having had nothing to eat for such a long time, and they went on their way for some miles--that is to say, they went on in an opposite direction to where they could see signs of sunrise over the trees. But the bear did not understand that they wanted him to go as near due west as possible, and he kept turning up sylvan glades at right angles and Joe had continuously to push his head round in the way he should go.

They parted with him suddenly and in a surprising way. He caught sight of a hollow tree in the middle distance, from which issued bees in large numbers though peacefully, and he intimated by grunts that there was food for all hands and to spare. Before they quite realized what he meant he was charging up to the tree, and Sylvia had just time to slip from his back. In another instant he was tearing away at the rotten part of the tree to get at the honey, and clouds of bees came out in a horrible rage to see about it. Joe caught Sylvia’s hand and dragged her into a clump of bushes just in time, and they went tearing through it and then as hard as they could pelt over the grass until they were a long way off. They could hear, subdued by distance, the hum of bees like the rich deep note of a church organ, and the mixed grunting and howling of the bear; though whether the latter sounds were those of joy or grief was a doubtful question. Sylvia said that bears did not feel pain from bees’ stings except on the tip of the nose because their fur protected them, but Joe was of opinion that they got stung furiously all over but that they considered the honey was worth the pain, hence the mixed quality of the howls.

They went on and on and on, and at last the sun got up and sent beams of cheerful light through the leaves and drove away the mist, so that Sylvia began to feel much better, though hungry, and hungrier as time went on. And just when the question of breakfast had become a really serious and mournful subject, they roused a shout of joy, for they saw coming towards them down the woodland ways one Gorbo, a Snerg.

GORBO THE SNERG

Gorbo was a well-known, utterly irresponsible Snerg who occasionally came over to Watkyns Bay to do a job of work, and who was quite celebrated for his habit of doing it very badly and getting tired of it almost at once and wandering off again. He was of average size for a Snerg and fairly young--possibly two hundred and fifty--and though good-natured to excess he had little intelligence of the useful kind. He had given it out that he was a potter by trade--he had indeed some superficial knowledge of the business--and he had induced Miss Watkyns to let him start a little kiln in order to supply the Society with pots. But there was no particular shape to his pots when he had made them and many of them fell to bits when they were handled, so Miss Watkyns told him plainly that he was a fraud; and to this he agreed heartily for he did not like to contradict people. She told him to go away--to potter off was her bitter expression--so he had gone to spend a day or two with Vanderdecken’s men, who rather liked his face but I don’t know why, and then he had come across the forest on his way to the town, where he had a little house of one room and a kitchen. And that is why the children met him that morning, grinning all over his face and carrying his bow and arrows, and a little bundle containing his few potter’s tools and his other shirt and a bunch of wheat-cakes. He had slept in a thicket of ferns, some of which he had chopped up to form a sort of nest, and what with the odds and ends of fern sticking to his clothes and his wild hair straggling out from his saucer cap, he looked as disreputable a person as you might expect to meet even among the Snergs, who are not over particular about their personal appearance at the best.

But he was a welcome sight to Sylvia and Joe. All three took hands and made two little dancing steps first to one side and then to the other, which is the Snerg manner of greeting, and which all the children had taken to (in spite of Miss Watkyns’ objection to it as absurd and unnecessary) and he was then asked if he had anything to eat. He produced his wheat-cakes and then made a little fire in order to warm them up on his potter’s trowel, which he cleaned first with a bunch of grass. Before they sat down to eat he sneaked up to a herd of deer which came into sight a little distance away and somehow blarneyed one of them into letting him milk her. He came back with a good deal of milk in a silver-tipped horn that he had, and the children divided it between them. They did not reflect of course that they were causing some small deer to go short that morning. But it was a very jolly breakfast. It was quite a joy to the children to note Tiger’s figure showing signs of sleekness and roundness again; he being of an age when it shows quickly.

When Gorbo heard that they had the nerve to run away he was not at all shocked at their folly but highly delighted with their sporting character, which is just what would be expected of him. But he said it was lucky they had met him, because left to themselves it was very doubtful if they would ever reach the town; and there was always the danger that they might wander into the parts where the trees grew closer and closer and are all twisted until at last there is no going forwards or backwards, and then they would be lost for keeps and a fine to-do. This, by the way, is the only thing with a touch of sense in it that he ever said to them, on that day at least.

Feeling tremendously refreshed with this wholesome meal, they started off again on their journey, Gorbo leading the way and showing nice little short-cuts through clumps of bracken and so forth, and sometimes carrying Sylvia over rough ground and through swampy places and the like. They had the luck to meet another large cinnamon bear, which carried both children for several miles; but at length it intimated in the usual way that it had had enough (this is done by crouching on the ground with all four paws tucked underneath, laying the head sideways, and emitting a long, loud, melancholy howl). So they got off and the bear sprang up and went swiftly away, and they never found another. It was the time of the annual migration of bears to the country of slug-nuts, and that is why so few bears were seen on this trip.

It was a long journey and both children got very tired; Gorbo had at last to carry Sylvia pick-a-back, while Joe had to carry the puppy, who was getting his pads sore with so much travel. But just when it seemed to them that there would never be any end to the journey, to their great joy they saw from a slight eminence a cluster of high-peaked red roofs, which Gorbo told them (rather unnecessarily I think) was the town.

THE TOWN

As none of the children had ever been seen in the town before, the arrival of Joe and Sylvia was the signal for a good deal of fuss and feathers. Snergs rushed out of their houses into the street and swarmed on the roofs and climbed about, and babies were held on high so that they might see. Some clever ones rushed to the town belfry and rang a peal, others got busy with strips of coloured cloth and had them rigged across the street in no time. The four brightest got out the town drums and went to meet them.

The crowd became dense, and considerate persons shouted “Stand back! Give them air!” Joe and Sylvia felt rather shy and uncomfortable at all the display, but Gorbo stepped out proudly for he was beginning to think this was a far, far better thing than he had ever done. And so, amid the shouts of the populace, with music before them, they went up the street.

Gorbo was full of hope that the King would see great merit in this his doing and that he would get a decoration for it. Nearly everybody had one of some sort or another, and though he did not go so far as to expect one of the best he hoped he would at least get the Order of the Brazen Nutmeg. He was soon undeceived. The Master of the Household came up to him with a stern look and bade him follow him to the King’s presence and explain what was his little game. Then he gave a hand to each of the children and led them to the Royal House.

THE ROYAL HOUSE

The Royal House is the only building in the town that stands without being propped up by another building, and naturally this gives it an imposing appearance. Picture to yourself columns of quaintly carved oak surrounding an audience chamber on the ground floor and supporting the spreading-out part of the stories above. On the first floor are the private apartments, the dining-hall (with a sufficient minstrel’s gallery giving elbow room for four minstrels to perform the most energetic pieces) and the room where the regalia is kept in a padded box. On the floor above live the Court officials, three of them, and on the third or attic floor, are rooms for the domestic staff and one large room containing odd matters that are bound to collect in any large household, such as chairs wanting a leg, damaged pieces of armour, swords with loose hilts, old pairs of bellows, and the like. The kitchen is in another building, connected to the dining-hall by an overhead passage which is covered in so that the victuals will not get chilled on the way. Altogether a neat and commodious dwelling for a king in a small way of business.

THE KING OF THE SNERGS

The King, Merse II, was quite an agreeable looking man, with the typical chubby face of the Snergs framed in a fringe of black whiskers that resembled chinchilla. He was fully four feet in height, broad and inclined to stoutness. He bade the children be seated on either side of him and spoke to them kindly, hoping that they were not too tired with the journey and inquiring politely after the health of Miss Watkyns and the other ladies. Joe and Sylvia were rather shy but very pleased; it now seemed to them that they had acted quite wisely in making this absurd expedition.

Then the King turned to Gorbo, who stood cap in hand, still holding on to his bundle and other matters. I will endeavour to give as literal a translation of the talk as possible.

“Hail, Gorbo, cleverest and brightest of the Snergs we don’t think,” said the King.

“Hail, King. May your shadow be ever a wide one.” (This is the formal reply to a Royal salutation.)

“And what doest thou here with these young ones, O Ornament to the race the other way round?”

“I met them in the woodland, O King,” replied Gorbo, now getting very nervous.

“Yes. And in what part of that wide address didst thou find them, thou first-class brain perhaps not?”

“Er--just this side of Toadstool Hollow, O King.”

“Ha! And had’st thou, thou nimble lout, any hand in inducing them to wander further from their home?”

Gorbo went down upon his knees, as a good safe position. “No, O King, not at all. They said they were coming here, so I--I showed them the way.”

“Excellent! And it did not occur to thee, thou farthing rascal, to lead them back to their little home by the sea?”

“N--no, O King, I--I didn’t think.”

“That we believe, thou worse than worm.”

The King crossed his legs and meditated, with his chin resting on his hand. “And what,” he asked at length, turning to Joe, “will Miss Watkyns (on whom be peace) think of these thy wanderings?”

“I don’t know, O King,” replied Joe, hoping he was saying it correctly. “We just scooted. For fun,” he added to make it sound more reasonable.

“For fun, sayest thou, small man! And had’st thou wandered with this golden-haired babe into parts where the trees are locked like twisted serpents and there is no light, wouldst thou then have found thy fun?”

Joe wriggled and felt horribly uncomfortable. The King then turned to the Master of the Household, who was standing by the kneeling Gorbo, contemptuously snipping at his ears.

“And what thinkest thou of this strange matter?” he asked.

“I think,” replied the officer, “that it were a good excuse for a feast.”

“Excellently said!” exclaimed the King. “So be it. We will first dispatch fleet messengers to Miss Watkyns to calm her fears, and then celebrate the visit of these tiny ones” (they were nearly as tall as he was) “by a banquet of the best. But,” he added, pointing the finger of scorn at Gorbo, “give to this all but black-beetle a courteous loving invitation to stay away from it.”

“Please, O King,” began Sylvia timidly. Then she stopped suddenly, for everybody had turned to look at her.

“Speak on, pretty one,” said the King, encouragingly, laying his hand upon her curls. “What hair!”

“Please, it wasn’t Gorbo’s fault,” went on Sylvia. “You see--er--O King, Joe and I ran away--for fun--and Gorbo found us when we were hungry and he gave us lots to eat. And he got some milk from a deer for us, and found us a bear to ride part of the way.”

“Gorbo’s a jolly good sort, O King,” added Joe.

“Oh, then that alters the case,” said the King briskly. (He was rather impulsive). “Rise, Gorbo. We cancel the invitation and command you to feast with us this day--but not too near us. The safe arrival of these little ones across the forest,” he added in a general way to everybody, “together with the discovery of a gleam of sense in that varlet, make this indeed a day of strange happenings.”

Sylvia and Joe were then taken charge of by the Queen, a fat, smiling person who came into the audience chamber at this point. They had first a good wash, and then a toothsome little snack of bean fritters mixed with honey, and a cup of milk, to carry on with until the time of the feast, and Tiger had a large plate of bread sop with meat in it, after which he went to sleep for hours. While they were eating the Queen came with a comb and fluffed out Sylvia’s hair and put some fancy extra curls in it. Then, after a little rest, they went to watch the preparations outside.

It was an interesting sight. The people had not had a feast for more than a week and it came as a welcome change. Men were staggering about with tables and joining them end on in the proper way, and placing stools and benches in position. There were 38 tables altogether and each one was about 12 feet long--38 × 12 = 456 feet--so you will see that a noble spread it was going to be; it reached from the Royal House to as far as beyond the market-place. From every kitchen came the smell of savoury baked meats. At the open windows little stout women could be seen rolling out pastry. Grave, responsible Snergs measured the mead into jars and placed them at the proper intervals on the tables. Harpers put new strings to their harps. The Court jester went to his attic and got out a little secret volume from beneath the mattress and mugged up some merry jests.

THE FEAST

At the appointed hour horns sounded and all sat down to table in the calm evening light. At the head were the King and Queen, side by side. To the right and left sat Sylvia and Joe, and after them came the best people, then the ordinary Snergs in order of importance. At the extreme end of the table, somewhere in the suburbs, sat Gorbo. That’s what they thought of _him_.

I am happy to report that the Queen kept a careful watch on what the two children ate or else there might have been serious trouble for them later, the food being of a very grown-up sort. They were given each a very tiny mug of mead and she told them to go slow with it. (The Snerg youngsters, by the way, can put away an imperial pint and still behave. Use is everything). It was all very jolly for them to find themselves treated with so much pomp and circumstance, and they felt that they had some glorious things to tell the other kids when they arrived home. There occurred one unfortunate incident, however, which helped to reduce any tendency towards swelled heads. They had heard before that the Snergs considered it shocking bad form to feed dogs when at table--every race has its own peculiar ideas on behaviour--but when two nice friendly dogs, rather like retrievers, came one on each side of Sylvia and watched every mouthful that she took, she was greatly tempted to give them a bit, especially as their mouths watered so much that she could actually hear the drips. It was when one of them began a gentle moaning sound that she could stand it no longer, so just when she thought the King and Queen were looking the other way she slipped a piece of meat into his mouth. He snapped it up and lashed the floor with his tail; the other dog instantly sprang up and put two paws on her lap and gazed into her eyes. In an instant all the talk had stopped and everybody stared at her.

It was a horrible moment, and she became crimson. But the King came to her aid with true politeness. He cut a piece of knuckle end of lamb and flung it to his favourite hound, and the situation was saved. (The Prince of Wales, I believe, once took a good swig out of his finger-bowl to put an unpolished guest at his ease.) But it was necessary to have all dogs removed after this, as they came crowding up, full of hope.

There was some good music from harps, and the jester asked some clever riddles, one of which was new. A young Snerg who had a really fine tenor voice sang, “Give me thy gold, I ask no more,” very movingly. But perhaps the most delightful (though slightly embarrassing) moment was when, at a given signal, the whole push stood up and drained a cup of mead to “Our Guests.”

The declining sun shone round a corner of the street; the scene was now in mellow light and shade. Snergs began to loll against each other and reach lazily for the nut-crackers. From the end of the table, 486 feet away, came shouts of unseemly mirth: Gorbo, that ass, had made a bet that he would stand on his head on a pyramid of mead pots, and the crash was terrific. The King sent a stern word that there was to be not so much of it. The sudden discovery that Joe and Sylvia were both sound asleep in their little arm-chairs caused no particular break in the proceedings. They were carried to the Royal House by motherly old Snergs and tucked up in bed, and the feasting and joviality went on.

A MORNING WALK

Will it be thought by the readers at this point that the promised moral lesson is long in coming? It is not improbable. So far I have chronicled a comparatively glorious result of the two children’s mutinous behaviour. They had arrived safely, after a journey which, though tiring, was full of interest, and had been received, dined, and wined in the manner of foreign potentates, and to their simple minds it seemed that all they had to do now was to go comfortably home and brag about it. But read on; the moral lesson is coming.

It was one of the quaint old customs of the Snergs to rise an hour or two later on the day after a feast. Consequently, when Joe and Sylvia woke up refreshed and happy, and with none of the sense of guilt befitting children who had wantonly run away from wise and kind rule, they found the whole place very quiet, the only sounds being those of swallows outside the open lattice of their room, and from the adjoining room (the Royal bedchamber), two different kinds of snores.

They crept downstairs and found a smiling old female person sifting cinders outside the kitchen door, and they asked her if she could please tell them when breakfast would be ready. She said it would not be for a long time but she could get them something to help them wait, and she took them into the kitchen and gave them each a warm cake, rather like a rusk only softer, and some milk. They talked about whales, in which she was much interested for she had never seen the ocean; few of the female Snergs ever travel.

They went for a walk down the deserted street and suddenly, in the paved yard where the pump is, they saw Gorbo. He had just soused his head and was drying it on a little coarse towel. They greeted joyfully and sat down on three buckets that happened to be there and talked of the news while Gorbo combed his wild head with a piece of comb that he had.

The news was this. A Snerg messenger had come on the run from Miss Watkyns late in the evening, saying that they had disappeared and would the King please turn all hands out at once to hunt for them, taking something to eat and a bottle of milk in case. Vanderdecken’s men in the meantime were ranging along the seashore, poking into caverns and places to see if they could find them, and sweeping the horizon for anything new, such as a raft flying the black flag--for they believed almost anything possible of Joe. Apparently there was great trouble and excitement over the matter at Watkyns Bay, and both children were very proud to be the cause of it all. They would be; they were just that kind.

Of course, as the fleet messengers dispatched by the King must have arrived and calmed Miss Watkyns’ fears by this time, there was no need to bother any more, and it had been arranged that Joe and Sylvia were to leave some time after breakfast on two domestic bears, with an escort of six Snergs who would carry four small blankets, two pillows, a kettle, a frying-pan, and some provisions; all these of course because they would have to spend the night in the forest. Joe felt rather upset that the adventures were coming to an end, but Sylvia was pleased. She had had a good deal of fun out of the trip and she felt it would be nice to get back again and be pardoned and petted in due course and tell all the other kids what a riotous time they had had.

They went for a walk with Gorbo across some fields, with Tiger careering ahead of them, for his long rest had done his paws good and he was feeling refreshed and full of prunes. Gorbo pointed out various objects of interest, such as the mill that belonged to his half-brother, and the hillside where the last dragon was killed, long ago when he was a tiny fellow. He remembered quite well some men rushing back and calling out “More arrows! More arrows!” when they had the dragon badly wounded and unable to fly, and how they went dashing back with the fresh supply of arrows and all shot at it until it looked like a pincushion and they could get near enough to stick it with spears and finish it. More than a hundred Snergs lost their lives on that occasion. He was too young to remember the fierce fights that took place when a wandering band of Kelps (possibly a corruption of Kelpies) came through the country, setting fire to the woods and robbing and slaying, but he took them on to rising ground and showed them the dark line that crossed the trees a mile or so away and which marked the deep river, and pointed out more or less the spot where the last battle had been fought. The Kelps had made a stand on a high rock, but the Snergs had gone solidly for them and pierced them with showers of arrows and cut them to bits with swords and pitched the rest into the river. And that, as Gorbo said, was that.

The most interesting feature of the forest land, he said, was the region of twisted trees, which reached to within a short distance of the town. It was not healthy to go too far in among these trees, but if they liked he would show them a few just on the outskirts, as breakfast wouldn’t be ready for at least another hour. The children were delighted at the chance of seeing these strange natural objects, so off they went into the woods.

THE TWISTED TREES

It did not take long to reach the spot where the first few twisted trees were growing. They were wonderful things, with thick smooth grey trunks and smooth grey branches that touched the ground here and there like great quiet serpents. Leaves grew only on the higher parts, but they were thick and matted like a thatch and made it rather dark and creepy underneath. Gorbo led them along to where there were more and much better specimens of this wonderful flora, and Sylvia and Joe were proud that they of all the children had had a chance of seeing them.

Gorbo said it was time to get back and he turned and led the way. Suddenly he stopped and looked about under the writhing grey branches and over them; then he turned in another direction. Again he stopped, and this time he had a particularly silly smile.

“I’d better be careful,” he said, “or we’ll get lost.”

He went on again and the children followed him, hoping that he would find the way out soon, as breakfast was a thing they wanted quickly. But it was getting dark; the sky was now hidden by a roof of matted leaves, and on all sides and above them the thick smooth branches twisted and crossed and locked together. The air was damp and smelt of mould and old moss, and there was a horrid silence. A great leather-skinned bat flickered past them, almost brushing against Sylvia’s hair, so that she ducked and gave out a little squeal.

Gorbo at last swarmed up one of the bigger trees and, after a lot of struggling, managed to force his way out through the leaves, disturbing numbers of bats that came flopping and wheeling about. Joe had to put his arms round Sylvia’s head and hide it as well as he could until the foul things had gone to settle elsewhere. A minute or two later, Gorbo came sliding down.

“It’s all right,” he said. “I couldn’t see much else but leaves, but I saw the sun so I know which way to go now. The sun is just over”--here he stopped and thought and scratched his head. “Yes, I _think_ it’s over that way. You see I got twisted round a bit coming down.”

They followed him again, working their way over and under the branches. After a time he stopped and thought again, and then began climbing and creeping in another direction--it was all climbing and creeping now. Then he stopped and looked at them in dismay. The horrible writhing grey trunks surrounded them on all sides like an ugly giant net, in a gloom so deep that their shapes were lost to the eye a dozen yards away. Gorbo, the clever one, the woodsman, had done this thing. They were lost.

He did not look at them for long; the sight of Sylvia’s scared face as she crept from under one of the grey limbs roused him up.

“It’s all right, Sylvia,” he said. “They’ll find we’re missing, and this is the first place they’ll look for us in. You see they’ll start shouting and yelling, and then we’ll start shouting and yelling and work our way to where we hear them. It’s quite easy. But won’t the King go for me! No Brazen Nutmeg for poor old Gorbo. There’s a little bigger space over there; let’s go and see if we can find a place to sit down comfortably.”

They worked their way on, and sure enough there was a little space ahead that was more open owing to there being a huge tree which had, so to speak, pushed all smaller ones out of its way. It was gloomy enough, but there was at least room to stand upright and move about if they felt like it.

“Look!” said Sylvia and Joe suddenly, both together.

Gorbo turned and then stared. In the big tree was a door about four feet high, a queer looking door with mighty iron hinges and clasps, all red with rust or green with moss. In the deep shadow and at a little distance away it was difficult to distinguish it from the trunk.

Gorbo scratched his head and continued to stare. “I’ve never heard of any door,” he said at length. “The Kelps never made any door; they hadn’t sense enough; all biting and screaming and killing, I’ve heard. And it’s ever so much too small for Golithos.”

“Who’s Golithos?” asked Joe quickly.

“Golithos’ an ogre,” replied Gorbo, truthfully, but like the silly fool he was. Sylvia gave a scream and clutched hold of Joe.

“It’s all right, Sylvia,” said Gorbo in a hurry. “He _was_ an ogre, but he’s not now. He’s reformed. Besides, he’s been on the other side of the river for ever so long. Don’t be frightened.”

He went to the door and gave a good pull at a great iron knob. The door swung open quite easily. He poked his head inside.

“Very dark and smells of cheese,” he said after a moment.

He went in a little way. “No, it’s not quite dark; there’s a light coming from somewhere. There’s a little flight of steps going down. Come and look.”

Joe picked up Tiger and, taking Sylvia by the hand, stepped with her inside the door.

“See,” said Gorbo, “there’s the steps. Shall we go down and see what we can see?”

“Yes,” said Joe eagerly. “Let’s!”

“N--n--no,” said Sylvia at the same time. “I don’t like it.”

“Anyway,” went on Gorbo, “we’ll make sure that the door doesn’t shut behind us. I’ll push it wide open and then----”

He did not finish what he was going to say, for the door had gently closed. He flung himself furiously at it, but, strong as he was, made no more impression on it than if it had been a stone wall.

Gorbo, that lout, had really done it this time.

_Part II_

TROUBLE AT WATKYNS BAY

Bitter was the grief and deep the perplexity of Miss Watkyns and all the ladies when news came by other fleet messengers that Sylvia and Joe had disappeared again, and this time in a quite unaccountable way. A little while later King Merse II himself came to Watkyns Bay and explained how bands of responsible Snergs had been sent to explore everywhere and especially in the region of twisted trees, taking with them little sacks of lime to mark their trails, and how they had shouted and yelled until they were hoarse, but without avail, since no answer had come from anywhere, and they had returned home with sore hearts and sore throats. He tried to cheer them up by saying that the children would certainly be found in time, but he did not say anything about his real fear, which was that they had somehow got mixed up with one or other of the magic snares which, tradition had it, were very plentiful among the twisted trees. He quoted old sayings to comfort them, such as it is best not to meet trouble half-way, and that care killed the cat when there was really nothing amiss with the animal. He added that as Providence looked after fools there was cause for cheerful hopes, since Gorbo was the biggest fool even among the Snergs, who, though having many good qualities, are not celebrated for brain waves.

These kind efforts had some effect in restoring confidence and the ladies were able to discuss the matter with comparative calm. Miss Gribblestone had at first wondered whether by some untoward combination of chances the children had slipped back to the scene of their former life, and she drew a pathetic picture of Sylvia and Joe wandering about the streets of London with bare legs and only slinkers on their feet, and possibly starving, and she suggested the advisability of her instant departure for London with a bundle of warm underthings and two woolly coats. Miss Watkyns reproved her with some sharpness, pointing out the impossibility of such a thing: leaving out fifty other reasons the moon was only a quarter full and the air currents would be in opposition, and this alone made the suggestion absurd. Miss Scadging advanced an even wilder theory that the children had suffered such mental anguish from the reproof and punishment given that they had wandered away and died of broken hearts, and at this Miss Watkyns begged her to consider the extravagance of such a suggestion applied to either Sylvia or Joe and to give her energies to a more practical solution of the problem.

When the rest of the children heard the news they were slightly awe-struck but not immoderately grieved, for their experience of Joe and Sylvia had led them to believe they were capable of coming safely out of any trouble, and the general opinion was that they were having a continuation of their surprising and interesting adventures somewhere and would return in due time, full of glory and slightly swollen headed. Poor things, they knew little of the harsh, real world; they had forgotten what happened to them in the past; as has been said, the air of the place was grand for forgetting.

The King next went over to see Vanderdecken and had a long conference with him, and then returned across the forest with his retinue. He had left word with Miss Watkyns that he and a band of picked men would leave next day on an expedition, but for the present he preferred not to say where to, in order to avoid raising either fears or hopes. On his arrival at the town he made a short speech, and then personally superintended preparations. Swords and axes were sharpened, quivers were stuffed with arrows, steel casques had old dents knocked out, cuirasses had the buckles put in order, provisions were packed into little wallets. The air smelt of war, as in the brave days of old.

Miss Watkyns, pacing with knitted brow on her verandah, was disturbed by the sound of shrieks and expletives. Looking up in anger, she saw Vanderdecken and all his men coming up the path, the foremost seaman bearing the parrot’s cage--this accounting for the noise, for the bird was enraged. All had their sea-boots on, and they bore muskets, powder-horns, pouches with slugs and bullets, cutlasses and snickersnees; each man had also a bag containing pickled beef, biscuits, a cake of tobacco, and a small bottle of Schnapps. Vanderdecken said that they were going away for an indefinite period and asked Miss Watkyns if she would kindly give an eye to the camp in their absence and see that things were aired occasionally and the weeds kept down in the garden. Also, if it was not too much trouble, would she see to it that the Snergs did at least half an hour’s pumping of the old ship every morning and evening. He then handed over the parrot with a request that it be supplied with nuts and fruit, and a bit of sulphur in its water to prevent it getting scaly feet, and begged her to pardon any of its verbal lapses. She agreed readily to these requests, and they departed across the forest and joined King Merse and his men on the following morning. An hour later they were all trooping together over the hillside beyond the town.

BEYOND THE DOOR

While Gorbo was battering himself against the heavy little door, which had closed so gently and firmly as if pushed to from without, Sylvia clung to Joe and hid her face and trembled. Joe held her tight without speaking; he, too, tough and adventurous as he was, had received a shock.

Gorbo turned round at last, and in the faint light that came from somewhere below they could see a badly scared look on his face, and it was all twisted as if he were going to cry. He was thinking of the horrid mess he had got the little ones into.

“I’ve done it this time,” he said. “So the old woman was right after all.”

“Which old woman?” asked Joe.

“An old woman who told my mother that she would only have one son and that he would be the biggest fool among the Snergs.”

“Then it isn’t your fault,” said Joe, to comfort him. “If it was all settled before you were born.”

“That’s so!” exclaimed Gorbo. “I must be a fool not to think of that before. But then if I had thought of it,” he added mournfully, “I wouldn’t be a fool and the old woman would have been wrong; so it works out all right.”

“But you’re sometimes quite sensible,” said Joe. “Isn’t he, Sylvia?”

“Y--y--yes,” agreed Sylvia. “But I wish we could get out.”

“It seems to me,” said Gorbo, “--not that _I_ am much of a man to listen to--that we should see what we can see down these steps.”

“Well, we can’t stay here for ever,” said Joe, “so let’s go.”

“I’ll go ahead,” said Gorbo. “If there are any fierce things that bite below, they can have first bite at me and serve me right.”

With this cheerful remark he started off. Joe went next and Sylvia came close behind him. The way was very narrow and so low that their heads nearly touched the roof, small as they were. And they went down and down and down, and the more they went down the lighter it got with a sickly yellowish-green light that seemed to come from a little growth on the walls, like fungus. There was absolutely nothing to see but steps and walls, very neatly cut out of solid rock. It must have been an awful job for those who did all this work, whoever they were.

“Do you think these steps go on for ever and ever?” asked Joe after a time.

“No,” replied Gorbo, stopping suddenly. “They’ve come to an end.” He was standing in a little flat place, from which five narrow passages branched out like the fingers of a hand. The question of which passage to take was indeed a hard one.

“We’d better start with the first one,” said Gorbo. “Then if it’s a wrong one we’ll try the next, and so on.”

“But suppose we go miles and miles before we find it’s a wrong one,” objected Joe. “We’d be hours over it, wouldn’t we?”

Gorbo scratched his head. “That sounds sound,” he observed.

“I know!” cried Joe. “We’ll see which one is ‘out.’ Let Sylvia try. She knows all the out poems.”

“All right.” Sylvia began to take great interest in the matter now. “Which one shall I try it with?”

“Try the cat one,” suggested Joe, after consideration.

So Sylvia pointed her finger at the little tunnels one after the other and repeated:

“If you want to stroke a cat
Lay it flat upon a mat.
Hold it firmly by the tail
Smack it if it starts to wail.
If it starts to spit and shout
Pick it up and throw it OUT.”

She stopped with her finger pointing at the fourth tunnel and she looked excitedly at the others, because it was becoming like a game.

“Here we go,” said Gorbo, making his way into the fourth tunnel.

They went on and on and on along the tunnel, and just at the exact moment when they agreed that it would never have any end, they fetched up against a blank wall. But on either side was a passage going at right angles, and the question was of course, which was the right one to take?

Sylvia repeated her little mystic rhyme, and “out” was the left-hand turning, so they went along it. After a dozen steps it turned to the right, and a little further on to the left; then it went straight on until it came to an end, with a smooth wall in front and on both sides. There was nothing for it but to go back and take the other turning. They wondered why the people who had done all this work had made this extra blind passage. Joe said they had done it to make it more interesting and adventurous. Sylvia said they had done it because they were pigs. Gorbo said it was merely because they were worse fools than he was and it quite cheered him up.

The other road soon began to turn gently to the left; then without rhyme or reason it turned gently to the right; then to the right and left alternately in very sharp turns. And just when they were convinced that it would go on turning idiotically for ever and ever they came suddenly into what appeared to be a mighty cavern, lighted by the same yellowish-green light of the tunnels, only more so, and full of monster mushrooms.

THE MUSHROOM CAVERN

When I say that the mushrooms were monsters, it hardly gives a correct idea of their size. Under the moderately small ones the three could stand upright, and the large ones were as high as a good-sized cottage and reached nearly to the roof of the cavern. The floor was hard and dry and perfectly flat, and the huge stalks of the mushrooms could be seen like a forest of giant skittles, going into the far distance on all sides. Above, the pink underneaths of those strange specimens showed like an unnecessarily large assortment of giant fancy umbrellas, opened. These, of course, accounted for the cheese-like smell that Gorbo had observed when he first put his head in the little door and sniffed. (It was not exactly like cheese, of course, but cheese is near enough.)

Gorbo showed himself a man of resource in a way. He said that, after all, mushrooms were mushrooms and good breakfast food, and that they might at least have a meal, whatever else happened afterwards. This cheered up Sylvia tremendously and she helped to gather heaps of dried stalks from the floor, and Gorbo got out his flint and steel from his bundle--he rarely went anywhere without his little bundle of tools and other matters and his bow and arrows--and soon had a fire going (to those who may object that mushroom stalks do not burn I have only to say that these did). With the aid of his useful trowel he provided an appetizing series of mushroom steaks, which they all enjoyed tremendously.

They found that the smaller ones were on the whole of a better flavour, and it was while they were searching for some tiny specimens, scarcely as high as a table, in order to cook some more, that they all got a sudden shock. They found that certain mushrooms had large semicircular pieces bitten out of them; the mouth that did it must have been a foot wide, with tremendous teeth. A very disturbing discovery you will say. They looked about them fearfully; and then they heard what sounded like heavy, shuffling footsteps, and a satisfied purring, as of a giant cat.

Gorbo put the children behind him in a hurry and fitted an arrow to his bow (the Snergs’ bows are on the small size, but they can send an arrow through a two-inch board at close range). Then to their horror appeared an animal that I can only describe as resembling a blonde four-footed walrus walking on its hind legs. It was covered with sleek, ginger-coloured hair, and it had goggling eyes, a mouth that corresponded closely with the estimate they had formed of it from the big bites, and a white drooping moustache. Strange to say, it was a marsupial--that is to say, it had a pouch--but no young ones were peeping out of the pouch as in the case of kangaroos and other marsupials. No, it seemed full of large chunks of mushroom, and the animal was walking upright because it was evidently the only way he could carry them in his pouch without tipping them out. He waddled clumsily up to one of the biggest mushrooms, sniffed at it, purred horribly with delight, bit a large section out of it, and bent his head carefully so as to place it in his pouch. And then Sylvia let out a loud scream.

I do not blame her; perhaps I should have screamed myself if I had been there. But the effect was marvellous. The animal turned its head smartly and stared at them, its fore-paws held up as if in fear and astonishment. The big mouth drooped, giving it a weak appearance; bits of mushroom dribbled from the corners. Then, with a sound like a roaring sob, the animal turned and scuttled away on all fours, scattering sections of mushroom from its pouch as it went.

The sounds of scuttling feet and sobs died away in the far distance and all was silent as before. Gorbo put his arrow back into his quiver. “There’s a cowardly custard for you,” he remarked, using an expression he had heard from the children. They went back to the fire and had some more breakfast, greatly relieved to find that the denizens of this strange part, so far as they could judge from this sample, were not ferocious ones.

Joe was apparently the bright one: he discovered that there was something like a path going more or less straight through the forest of monstrous fungi, and suggested that it would be a wise idea to follow it. They did so, walking on and on until they were weary of the sight of the thick white stalks, and a good long time afterwards. Strange, is it not, that here Nature should be so lavish of mushrooms, while in England they are so rare that hard-worked men are forced by their wives to rise from their beds before they have had their fill of sleep in order to gather a few poor specimens?

The path came to an end at a blank face of rock. They had reached the other side of the cavern. Sylvia repeated her little poem again, and “out” was to the left, so to the left they went. This time they did not go so very far before they were rewarded by the strange sight of a stone seat, and in front of it, a stone table, both very neatly carved.

What was it doing here? What strange forgotten race had gone to the trouble of chopping a stone seat and table out of hard rock--and not only chopping them out but carving some strange figures on them and smoothing the legs down? They all looked carefully at the carvings; so far as they could judge they were intended to represent rabbits walking upright. Why?

“This cheers me up,” said Gorbo. “I _can’t_ be the biggest fool. When I consider that people have gone to the length of making this difficult table and bench and carving rabbits on it for the sole purpose--apparently--of eating mushrooms in this dismal cavern, I feel that there is hope for me.”

“But _we_ don’t think you’re a fool, Gorbo,” said Sylvia soothingly.

“No, Sylvia,” replied Gorbo with a sigh. “But you haven’t seen me at my best.”

“But there must be some way out close by here!” exclaimed Joe. “Of course they’d put this table near the coming-in place, wouldn’t they?”

“You’ve got it, Joe,” said Gorbo. “Unless the people who did it were much worse than me.”

Joe was right; at a very little distance away they found a tunnel. It was as narrow as the tunnel they had passed through on the other side and it was just as smooth, but it had this difference, that it sloped upwards, on a gentle slope. They went up it until they were sick and tired of the monotony, and at last they had to sit down, for Sylvia was getting very tired.

When they started off again Gorbo picked up Sylvia in his arms and carried her. “This beastly tunnel’s going on like this for about five miles,” he said, as he walked on with her. After about twenty steps he put her down again.

“We get fooled every time,” he observed bitterly. They had arrived at a little flat place, like a room. Two passages branched out from it, and there was a stone bench on either side, highly finished and each with what appeared to be a pig carved on it.

“Pigs, you see,” remarked Gorbo. “However, I suppose they couldn’t help it.”

Again Sylvia repeated the rhyme and they took the right-hand passage. It went winding about with bold curves for a long distance and then came to a sudden end, but this time, to their great joy, it ended in a small door, iron bound and rusty; like the one they had unfortunately found under the twisted trees. They raised a shout of joy, for surely their long strange journey was over--that is, the underground part of it.

Gorbo pushed at the door, but it did not move. Then he pushed harder. Then he put his shoulder to it and shoved with all his might. And still the door remained shut hard and fast.

“I’ll do it!” he cried. “Luckily there’s plenty of room for a run.” With that, he ran and hurled himself at the door with a mighty crash. And he might as well have flung himself against Westminster Abbey. He sat down and looked mournfully at the children and they looked mournfully back at him.

There seemed nothing for it but to try what the left-hand passage would show them. So they went back and followed it through devious twists and turns until it ended in a small bare chamber, on the walls of which were carved what was undoubtedly meant to represent goats. There was absolutely nothing else to see.

“Goats this time,” said Gorbo sourly. “Well, well, well! Yes, it’s clear to me that I’m not the worst.”

They sat down on the floor and thought melancholy thoughts, for the adventure was beginning to have a very black look. Sylvia hugged the small dog to her, feeling very unhappy. At last Gorbo sprang up and said he was going to have another try at that door if he broke his back at it.

He examined the door all over very carefully. In the sickly greenish light he could see huge iron hinges and plates; certainly it was a very massive type of door for its size. He bent down and put his eye to a tiny chink on one side.

“I can see daylight,” he cried excitedly. “We’ve _got_ to get out! Just watch me this time.”

He took a good long run and then came against it with a terrific smash. Then he did it again. After that he did it again. It takes a good deal of bumping to hurt a Snerg, but Sylvia was frightened that he would overdo it.

“Don’t, Gorbo!” she cried. “You’ll hurt yourself badly.”

“I deserve it,” said Gorbo. “Yes, I _am_ the worst.” He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

“I wonder whether----” began Sylvia. Then she stopped and thought.

“You wonder what?” asked Joe.

“Just an idea of mine. Perhaps--yes I’ll try.”

She got up and went to the door and grabbed hold of a piece of iron-work where it stuck out a little. Then she pulled as well as she could with her little fingers.

The door opened inwards smoothly and sweetly, and a flood of daylight poured in.