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