COCO BOLO
[Illustration: _Up the garden ran the King_]
COCO BOLO
King of the Floating Islands
SIDFORD F. HAMP
[Illustration: ARTI et VERITATI]
BOSTON
RICHARD G. BADGER
THE GORHAM PRESS
1911
Copyright, 1910, by Richard G. Badger
All Rights Reserved
THE GORHAM PRESS, BOSTON, U. S. A.
CONTENTS
_Chapter One_
The Shadow-Chasers 9
_Chapter Two_
Admiral Boxwood 19
_Chapter Three_
The Royal Yacht 31
_Chapter Four_
The King's Hounds 43
_Chapter Five_
The Court Crier 56
_Chapter Six_
Refreshments 71
_Chapter Seven_
Coco Bolo Rex 84
_Chapter Eight_
Lobsterneck 95
_Chapter Nine_
The Snap-Dragon Sings 109
_Chapter Ten_
The Archbishop 120
_Chapter Eleven_
The Blue-Gum Policeman 134
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Up the Garden Ran the King Frontispiece
Shadow Chasing 13
Picked Up the Little Admiral 23
Allowed the Anchor to Hit Him 33
His Heels Went up in the Air 45
Down He Plumped on the Top Step 65
Began Gently Floating Down Again 77
Turned Heels Up and Came Floating Down
Head First 97
With that He Unfolded a Sheet of Music and
Prepared to Sing 107
He Was a Jaunty Young Gentleman 123
Away He Went, Straight for the Palace 131
Nor Was it Surprising That She Should Sit and
Stare 143
COCO BOLO
KING OF THE FLOATING ISLANDS
=Coco Bolo=
CHAPTER I
THE SHADOW-CHASERS
"Edward can't come," said Margaret: "he'd get tired too soon and want
to go home again."
"No, Edward can't come," Frances agreed. "His legs are too short. We
must wait till he goes upstairs for his nap, and then we'll start."
There were three children in the family: Margaret, who was nearly
eight; Frances, who was six and a quarter; and Edward, who, being only
half way between three and four, was still--as Frances had sagely
remarked--too short in the legs for such an enterprise as the two
little girls had in mind.
They had been spending the winter on the coast of Southern California,
when, one morning in April, Margaret and Frances went out into the
road in front of the house, and turning their backs to the sun, amused
themselves by running after their shadows, trying to step on their own
heads--a feat they had often attempted before, but never yet with any
success.
While they were thus occupied, their father, coming out of the house,
stood on the edge of the sidewalk watching them, and when the two
children, tousled and breathless, presently came back to him, he put an
arm round the shoulders of each, saying:
"What are you doing, Chicks? Chasing shadows?"
"Yes, Daddy." It was Margaret who replied. "We were trying to get to
the other end--"
"So's we could tread on our own heads," said Frances, who never liked
to be left out of the conversation.
"Ah! A difficult thing to do. Nobody ever succeeded yet that I know of
except little Tom Titmouse, and very much surprised he was when he got
there."
"Why?" asked both children, with eager anticipation, scenting a story.
"Be-cause," replied their father, spreading out the word in order to
give himself time to think. "Because--But it's too long a story to tell
you now, children, for I must leave in a minute. So the story must
wait till this evening--unless you should manage to catch your shadows
before I get home again, and then _you_ can tell _me_ whether it is all
true or not."
"Whether what is all true, Daddy?" asked Margaret.
"Why, all those things that Tommy Titmouse saw: King Coco Bolo and the
Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-dragon, and--but I
must go, children. I must be off. Good-bye! There's my car coming now."
So saying, Daddy ran to the street corner, and there, with a wave of
his hand, he vanished, leaving the two little girls standing before the
front gate, thinking.
"We'll try this morning," said Margaret with decision. "We'll start
just as soon as Edward goes upstairs for his nap."
Accordingly, the moment Edward's short legs had conveyed him
unwillingly to bed, the two little girls went out at the back gate to
where a large open stretch of land sloped gently down to the ocean,
about half a mile away. A few trees were scattered here and there upon
the slope, and between them, far out upon the water, might be seen
some bare, rocky islands, with the sight of which the children were
familiar--islands where nobody lived and to which nobody ever went.
Margaret was a rather tall little girl, with brown eyes and brown hair
and red cheeks, while Frances, who was not quite so tall, had light
hair and hazel eyes and pink cheeks, as well as a band of freckles all
across her nose. Both of them were wearing that morning their pink
dresses and flowered hair-ribbons--a very fortunate circumstance, as
it turned out. Margaret also wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, while
her sister carried instead a pink-and-white parasol--one of her last
birthday presents. She took with her as well another of her birthday
presents: a yellow plush puppy with black spots, Periwinkle by name,
whose legs were like sausages, whose eyes were glittering black beads,
and whose red worsted mouth was set in a perpetual smile.
Thus equipped, the children set forth, and turning their backs to the
sun and their faces to the ocean, they walked after their shadows,
steadily and briskly, though without haste.
"For," said Frances, "the way to do is not to hurry. That is what Daddy
said that day we walked to the old wreck. He said, 'Take it easy and
keep going,' and we did and we got there."
"Yes," responded her sister. "Daddy always knows; so we won't hurry;
and then we shan't get so hot either."
[Illustration: _Shadow chasing_]
It was hot enough, though, hurry or no hurry, for the morning was
unusually sultry. The sun beat down upon them, the ground was
steaming and the air was all in a quiver; and what was worse, though
they kept on walking and walking, they seemed to get no nearer to the
other end of their shadows. It was rather discouraging.
They were persevering little girls, however, and knowing how pleased
Daddy would be to learn whether it really was true about Coco Bolo and
the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-Dragon, they
kept on and on, growing more tired and more hot and more discouraged
at every step--especially Frances, who had the puppy to carry--when,
without their having noticed what had become of them, their shadows
suddenly disappeared!
On the brink of a steep little cliff about six feet high, at the foot
of which the waters of a small inlet gently lapped the rocks, there
stood a grove of ten or twelve trees--short, stubby trees, all leaning
landward, as trees growing on the edge of the sea always do. The
shadows led the children straight to this grove of trees, and there, lo
and behold! they vanished. Where had they got to?
Margaret and Frances looked all about. They looked upon the ground and
they looked up into the trees, but look where they might no shadows
could they see. Where _had_ they got to?
"I wonder," said Frances, "if this isn't the place where
Tommy--Tommy--what was his other name?"
"Little Tom Titmouse," replied her sister. "Perhaps it is. So let us
sit down and wait. Perhaps, if we sit still and keep quiet, we may see
King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and--Are there such things as tame
dragons, Frances?" she asked, suddenly remembering with some misgivings
that little Tom Titmouse, besides making the desirable acquaintance of
King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop, had also encountered a dragon--which
was quite another thing.
"There must be," replied Frances, reflectively. "Daddy told us to try
to get to that place, and if the dragon hadn't been a tame dragon he
wouldn't--"
"No, of course he wouldn't," interrupted Margaret, reassured. "So
we'll sit down and wait, and perhaps--Oh! Look!" pointing out over the
shimmering sea. "There are some new islands! One, two, three of them,
besides the old ones. Look! Oh! One of them has split in two! Now there
are four! Now there are five! What funny islands!"
Sitting in the cool shade of the trees, the children watched the new
islands come and go, grow large and larger, break in two, vanish and
come again. It was very fascinating and also very mysterious. How did
they get there? Where had they come from? And why, Oh, why did they
keep shifting about like that? Were they floating islands? It seemed
likely, for Daddy had once told them something about floating islands
with flower gardens on them, though where they were situated Margaret
could not remember.
"I shouldn't be a bit s'prised"--she began, when, turning to her
sister, she noticed that an ant was running over the back of Frances'
hand. Knowing very well that Frances objected to the tickling of ants
and spiders and such things, Margaret glanced quickly at her face, and
then smiled a superior smile.
"She's so young," said she, by way of explaining it. "She's only six
and a quarter. It isn't as if she was nearly eight. I won't disturb
her. I'll let her sleep just as long as she likes."
Observing that the yellow plush puppy was lying on his back with his
feet in the air, she went on:
"I may just as well lie down too while I'm waiting. I'll put Periwinkle
on this flat stone: he'll make a very good pillow. Ah! How nice it is
here under the trees. I wish the branches would keep still, though, so
that the sunlight wouldn't keep flicking into my eyes. I'll put my hat
over my face, and then--Yes, that's better. Now, I'll just shut my eyes
and wait till Frances--"
"_Ting-a-ling-a-ling!_"
Margaret had not had her eyes shut one minute--no, not half a minute,
she was sure--when she heard the sound of a little bell somewhere close
by. She sat bolt upright and listened, while Periwinkle, who had been
uncomplainingly serving her as a pillow, the valiant Periwinkle sprang
up on his sausage legs and began to growl fiercely--as fiercely, that
is to say, as was to be expected of a yellow plush puppy with a fixed
red worsted smile.
"_Ting-a-ling-a-ling!_" went the bell again. The sound seemed to come
up from the edge of the water at the foot of the cliff. Margaret jumped
up, and followed by Periwinkle she stepped softly to the edge of the
rocks and peeped over.