The Island of Isa Poso
While Tatters was still studying the sign and explaining a dragon to
Urtha, the old soldier stepped over to another tree where an even larger
sign was displayed. This is what it said:
REWARD!
One-half the kingdom and the hand of the Princess Poso
to the slayer of the dragon Enorma.
_Chin Chilly the Third_,
King of Isa Poso.
“Hah,” cried Grampa, with a little skip, “this is more like it!”
“Like what?” asked Tatters, blowing on his stiff fingers.
“Like olden times. In my youth,” said Grampa solemnly, “young lads
served in the armies of strange kings, slew monsters and were rewarded
with half the kingdom and the Princess’ hand. Let us immediately slay
this dragon, my boy, and win the reward. Then all that will be left for
us to do will be to find your father’s head.”
“And I’ll find the dragon,” volunteered the weather cock, rising into
the frosty air.
“What shall I do?” asked Urtha, running up to the old soldier.
“Just be your lovely little self,” smiled Grampa, “and stay where we can
see you. Why, just to look at you makes me feel like a conquering army
with banners flying.”
Urtha was so happy at Grampa’s neat little speech that she blew him a
kiss and began dancing in circles over the shimmery snow and wherever
Urtha’s foot rested the snow melted and flowers sprang up, until there
were circles of posies pricked out against the snow. Grampa and Tatters
were so interested that they almost forgot the icy wind that was blowing
over this white, frozen land. But soon the Prince, who in spite of the
skin of the thread bear was thinly clad, began to shiver and the old
soldier to shake in good earnest. First he stood on one foot and then on
the other—and longest on the other because that was his game leg and not
subject to frost bites.
“A game leg’s a mighty fortunate thing,” wheezed Grampa huskily, “but I
wish we were like Urtha—then we wouldn’t feel this pesky wind. Let’s
march on, for if we stay here we’ll freeze stiff.” Marching on an empty
stomach through a strange freezing land was not the pleasantest thing in
the world but both Grampa and Tatters stepped out bravely, the young
Prince smiling over his shoulder every few minutes at the little flower
maiden. “It’s a lucky thing we’re not being followed,” whispered Grampa,
and it certainly was—for after them, in a tell-tale row, pansies,
tulips, daffodils and forget-me-nots marked out the steps of the light
footed little flower fairy.
“I hope we track down this dragon soon,” groaned Tatters, pausing to
stamp his foot and rub the end of his nose. Icicles were forming on
Grampa’s whiskers and the sun, flashing on the snow, almost blinded the
gallant old soldier. He was almost ready to quit.
“No wonder the king calls himself Chin Chilly,” chattered Grampa
dismally. “My chin’s chilly too; I’m chilly all over. Urtha, my dear, do
you see anything that looks like a dragon?”
“I see a bright light,” called Urtha, who was dancing ahead of the
shivering adventurers.
“I feel a warm wind!” cried the Prince of Ragbad excitedly.
“The dragon! The dragon!” screamed the weathercock, appearing suddenly
over the top of a bleak, icy hill. Before Bill’s warning had died away,
the dragon itself hove into view and, with a great roar, came
tobogganing down upon the frightened little company like a scenic
railway train. Urtha jumped behind Tatters, Tatters drew his umbrella
and Grampa looked down the sights of his gun into the flaming throat of
Enorma herself. For a moment nothing happened, for the dragon, now that
she was down the hill, seemed to wait for them to make the first move.
“Don’t shoot,” begged the Prince of Ragbad imploringly. “Don’t shoot yet
Grampa, it’s the first time I’ve been warm to-day!”
Grampa’s whiskers had already thawed out and the heat from the
fire-breathing monster was so comforting that they almost forgot their
fear. The dragon, on her part, seemed more curious than angry.
“Well, I’ll be snowballed!” she snorted, wagging her head from side to
side. “How did you get here?”
“It’s a long strange story,” sighed Grampa, lowering his gun and holding
his hands toward the waves of heat that blew from the dragon’s nostrils.
“We fell, swam, sailed and exploded,” crowed Bill, flapping his wings
over the dragon’s head.
“Well, before you melt, would you mind telling me why you came at all?”
asked Enorma, with a terrific yawn.
“Melt!” exclaimed Grampa, his eyes snapping, “why, I’m just beginning
to thaw out.”
“Well, you’ll soon be entirely out of the way,” said the dragon
comfortably. “The folk hereabout melt at my mere approach.” Enorma
yawned again and began to pant a little, from her slide down the hill.
“Humph!” grunted the old soldier. At the first yawn he had made a
startling discovery—at the second he was sure he had made it. Taking out
his snuff box, the old soldier tip-toed close to the monster and flung
the entire contents in her face.
Then, “Run for your lives!” shouted Grampa, starting off at his best
pace. And it is well that they quickly obeyed this command, for the
sneezes of that dragon shook the entire island and sent the snow in
blinding flurries all around them.
“What—what’s happened?” asked the Prince of Ragbad, peering out wildly
from behind an icy cliff.
“Your fortune’s made, that’s all!” announced Grampa proudly. “More ways
than one of winning a battle.”
Stepping out, and motioning for the others to follow, the old soldier
approached the still quivering monster. Tears streamed from her eyes and
she was still sneezing broken-heartedly.
“Enorma is as false as her teeth!” puffed Grampa, and with astonishment
Tatters and Urtha saw that the dragon was perfectly toothless—having
lost her one and only set at the first pinch of Grampa’s snuff.
“Will you finish her off, or shall I?” asked the old soldier, rattling
his sword in businesslike fashion. Before Tatters could answer Enorma
gave a frightened moan and began scuttling across the snow fields like
an express train bound for Atlantic City.
“Halt! Stop! or I’ll fall on your head! Come back here at once and be
slaughtered!” screamed Bill, flying after her while the others followed
as fast as they could on foot. But in the end Enorma finished herself
for, turning to see how close Grampa and Tatters were coming, she
plunged headfirst into an icy stream and put herself out—completely and
entirely out—for a dragon can no more stand a dash of water than a
furnace, or a witch!
When Grampa and Tatters reached the edge of the stream, Enorma was
floating like a great green log on the surface, only a tiny puff of
smoke to show that she had ever been a roaring, fire-eating, sure-enough
monster.
Gentle little Urtha wept a bit but Tatters soon comforted her. Then he
and the old soldier moored Enorma fast to a tree, so that they would
have proof of their valor when they met the King of the Island. They
were all warm from the encounter with the dragon, but it soon wore off
and it wasn’t long before they began to shiver again.
“Wish we’d brought one of those house plants along,” sighed Tatters.
“Wish I could get my teeth in one of Mrs Sew-and-Sew’s ragamuffins,”
murmured Grampa, trudging gloomily over the snow.
“Bill’s found something,” called Urtha, who was dancing a few steps
ahead. Just then down came the weather cock to announce that he had
discovered the dragon’s cave. It was tunneled out of a huge, snowy hill
and at one end burned a roaring fire. Dragons, as you know, drink flame
as other creatures drink water and Enorma always kept a huge pile of
trees burning in her cavern.
“Bill, you’re a real explorer!” cried Grampa and, taking off one of his
medals, he hung it ’round the weather cock’s neck. Stacked against the
walls of the cave were great piles of frozen meat, for Enorma—in spite
of her false teeth—had been a mighty huntress. In a trice Grampa had a
bear steak sputtering on the fire on pointed sticks and nothing could
have been cozier than their breakfast.
“I told you our troubles were over,” beamed the old soldier, handing
Tatters a portion of the steak on a tin army plate. “All we have to do
now is to claim the reward, find the King’s head and journey back to
Ragbad.” Grampa grinned with satisfaction.
“But how can we do that?” asked Tatters dubiously. “There’s the ocean
and the sandy desert between.”
“Don’t worry,” advised Grampa, settling comfortably before the fire.
“This old Chin Chilly will be so delighted to have the dragon out of
the way that he’ll probably send us home in a golden ship with our
pockets full of diamonds. How will you like that, Loveliness?” Urtha was
playing hide and seek with Bill but at Grampa’s words she came over to
the fire.
“I’ll like it if Tatters does,” said the little flower fairy, smiling
shyly at the Prince of Ragbad.
“Well, I’ll like it,” admitted Tatters, “especially with _you_ along,
for we can dance on the deck and play scrum. Why, I’ve never had time to
teach you yet. Grampa, won’t you lend us your leg?”
“Not now,” objected the old soldier. “Duty before pleasure, my children.
Remember that we have not found this Chin Chilly, nor claimed the
reward. As we’re warmed up and fed we’d better start hunting again.”
“Here I go by the name of Bill,” crowed the weather cock, flinging out
of the cavern. Grampa stowed some of the dried bear meat in his knapsack
and then, forming his little company in line, gave the order to march
away.
“First we’ll have another look at the dragon,” said the old soldier,
“and then we’ll try to find the palace of Isa Poso.”
So down the snowy hill they marched and slid and they had just come to
the banks of the stream when harsh voices from the other side of a clump
of trees made them stop short.
“Flowers!” screamed the first voice. “Pull them up, tread them down!
Who dares to plant flowers on Isa Poso?”
“Foot-prints, too, Chilly dear,” grunted a deeper voice. “Here is an
animal with unmatched feet.”
Dropping on his knees, the old soldier peered around the frozen tree
trunks and saw two of the islanders bending over the tracks they had
made when they chased Enorma. They were towering men of snow, with faces
of roughly cut ice and so cruel and forbidding in appearance that just
to think of them makes me shudder. Fortunately Grampa was not so easily
frightened as I am.
“Animals indeed!” spluttered the old soldier. “Company! Forward
march!” And Grampa rushed through the trees so fast that Tatters and
Urtha had to run to keep up. So suddenly did they burst out upon the
little group of islanders that several of the snow men fell over
backwards.
“Where is the King?” shouted Grampa, giving his drum such a whack that
three more of the company collapsed. But they quickly recovered
themselves and, instead of answering, the tallest snow man flung out his
arms toward Urtha.
“Stand still!” he commanded angrily. “You’re ruining my island. Look at
the foolish creature cluttering up the place with flowers!”
Urtha shrank back toward Tatters and the young Prince, speechless with
indignation, grasped his umbrella and prepared to attack. But Grampa
restrained him and with another resounding whack of his drum strode up
to the speaker.
“Is this your island?” asked the old soldier, stamping his game foot.
“Yes, and what are you doing on it?” demanded Chin Chilly, stamping his
snow foot. “Just to look at you makes we want to melt!”
“Go ahead and melt,” advised Grampa coldly—by this time he was very
cold—“but before you do and before you give us any more of your chin
music, hand over the reward. I lay claim to half the Kingdom and the
Princess in the name of Prince Tatters of Ragbad!”
“Has he slain the dragon?” asked the King, with a gasp of surprise. His
manner changed at once and, looking as pleasant as a fellow with icicle
whiskers well can, he turned to Tatters. The Prince of Ragbad nodded
shortly, for he had not forgotten the King’s rudeness to Urtha, and
Grampa waved his sword toward the body of Enorma, still floating half in
and half out of the water. Running down to the edge of the stream, the
snow men began to hug one another and dance up and down with excitement.
“This way! This way!” chuckled Chin Chilly, rubbing his hands together
gleefully. Grampa, his head held high and his chest thrust out proudly,
followed—for Grampa felt that this was a great day in the history of
Ragbad—but Tatters was beginning to have misgivings about the Princess
of Isa Poso.