When King Rinkitink and Prince Inga had bathed themselves in the sea
and eaten a simple breakfast, they began wondering what they could do
to improve their condition.
"The poor people of Gilgad," said Rinkitink cheerfully, "are little
likely ever again to behold their King in the flesh, for my boat and my
rowers are gone with everything else. Let us face the fact that we are
imprisoned for life upon this island, and that our lives will be short
unless we can secure more to eat than is in this small sack."
"I'll not starve, for I can eat grass," remarked the goat in a pleasant
tone--or a tone as pleasant as Bilbil could assume.
"True, quite true," said the King. Then he seemed thoughtful for a
moment and turning to Inga he asked: "Do you think, Prince, that if the
worst comes, we could eat Bilbil?"
The goat gave a groan and cast a reproachful look at his master as he
said:
"Monster! Would you, indeed, eat your old friend and servant?"
"Not if I can help it, Bilbil," answered the King pleasantly. "You
would make a remarkably tough morsel, and my teeth are not as good as
they once were."
While this talk was in progress Inga suddenly remembered the three
pearls which his father had hidden under the tiled floor of the banquet
hall. Without doubt King Kitticut had been so suddenly surprised by the
invaders that he had found no opportunity to get the pearls, for
otherwise the fierce warriors would have been defeated and driven out
of Pingaree. So they must still be in their hiding place, and Inga
believed they would prove of great assistance to him and his comrades
in this hour of need. But the palace was a mass of ruins; perhaps he
would be unable now to find the place where the pearls were hidden.
He said nothing of this to Rinkitink, remembering that his father had
charged him to preserve the secret of the pearls and of their magic
powers. Nevertheless, the thought of securing the wonderful treasures
of his ancestors gave the boy new hope.
He stood up and said to the King:
"Let us return to the other end of Pingaree. It is more pleasant than
here in spite of the desolation of my father's palace. And there, if
anywhere, we shall discover a way out of our difficulties."
This suggestion met with Rinkitink's approval and the little party at
once started upon the return journey. As there was no occasion to delay
upon the way, they reached the big end of the island about the middle
of the day and at once began searching the ruins of the palace.
They found, to their satisfaction, that one room at the bottom of a
tower was still habitable, although the roof was broken in and the
place was somewhat littered with stones. The King was, as he said, too
fat to do any hard work, so he sat down on a block of marble and
watched Inga clear the room of its rubbish. This done, the boy hunted
through the ruins until he discovered a stool and an armchair that had
not been broken beyond use. Some bedding and a mattress were also
found, so that by nightfall the little room had been made quite
comfortable.
The following morning, while Rinkitink was still sound asleep and
Bilbil was busily cropping the dewy grass that edged the shore, Prince
Inga began to search the tumbled heaps of marble for the place where
the royal banquet hall had been. After climbing over the ruins for a
time he reached a flat place which he recognized, by means of the tiled
flooring and the broken furniture scattered about, to be the great hall
he was seeking. But in the center of the floor, directly over the spot
where the pearls were hidden, lay several large and heavy blocks of
marble, which had been torn from the dismantled walls.
This unfortunate discovery for a time discouraged the boy, who realized
how helpless he was to remove such vast obstacles; but it was so
important to secure the pearls that he dared not give way to despair
until every human effort had been made, so he sat him down to think
over the matter with great care.
Meantime Rinkitink had risen from his bed and walked out upon the lawn,
where he found Bilbil reclining at ease upon the greensward.
"Where is Inga?" asked Rinkitink, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles
because their vision was blurred with too much sleep.
"Don't ask me," said the goat, chewing with much satisfaction a cud of
sweet grasses.
"Bilbil," said the King, squatting down beside the goat and resting his
fat chin upon his hands and his elbows on his knees, "allow me to
confide to you the fact that I am bored, and need amusement. My good
friend Kitticut has been kidnapped by the barbarians and taken from me,
so there is no one to converse with me intelligently. I am the King and
you are the goat. Suppose you tell me a story.
"Suppose I don't," said Bilbil, with a scowl, for a goat's face is very
expressive.
"If you refuse, I shall be more unhappy than ever, and I know your
disposition is too sweet to permit that. Tell me a story, Bilbil."
The goat looked at him with an expression of scorn. Said he:
"One would think you are but four years old, Rinkitink! But there--I
will do as you command. Listen carefully, and the story may do you some
good--although I doubt if you understand the moral."
"I am sure the story will do me good," declared the King, whose eyes
were twinkling.
"Once on a time," began the goat.
"When was that, Bilbil?" asked the King gently.
"Don't interrupt; it is impolite. Once on a time there was a King with
a hollow inside his head, where most people have their brains, and--"
"Is this a true story, Bilbil?"
"And the King with a hollow head could chatter words, which had no
sense, and laugh in a brainless manner at senseless things. That part
of the story is true enough, Rinkitink."
"Then proceed with the tale, sweet Bilbil. Yet it is hard to believe
that any King could be brainless--unless, indeed, he proved it by
owning a talking goat."
Bilbil glared at him a full minute in silence. Then he resumed his
story:
"This empty-headed man was a King by accident, having been born to that
high station. Also the King was empty-headed by the same chance, being
born without brains."
"Poor fellow!" quoth the King. "Did he own a talking goat?"
"He did," answered Bilbil.
"Then he was wrong to have been born at all. Cheek-eek-eek-eek, oo,
hoo!" chuckled Rinkitink, his fat body shaking with merriment. "But
it's hard to prevent oneself from being born; there's no chance for
protest, eh, Bilbil?"
"Who is telling this story, I'd like to know," demanded the goat, with
anger.
"Ask someone with brains, my boy; I'm sure I can't tell," replied the
King, bursting into one of his merry fits of laughter.
Bilbil rose to his hoofs and walked away in a dignified manner, leaving
Rinkitink chuckling anew at the sour expression of the animal's face.
"Oh, Bilbil, you'll be the death of me, some day--I'm sure you will!"
gasped the King, taking out his lace handkerchief to wipe his eyes;
for, as he often did, he had laughed till the tears came.
Bilbil was deeply vexed and would not even turn his head to look at his
master. To escape from Rinkitink he wandered among the ruins of the
palace, where he came upon Prince Inga.
"Good morning, Bilbil," said the boy. "I was just going to find you,
that I might consult you upon an important matter. If you will kindly
turn back with me I am sure your good judgment will be of great
assistance."
The angry goat was quite mollified by the respectful tone in which he
was addressed, but he immediately asked:
"Are you also going to consult that empty-headed King over yonder?"
"I am sorry to hear you speak of your kind master in such a way," said
the boy gravely. "All men are deserving of respect, being the highest
of living creatures, and Kings deserve respect more than others, for
they are set to rule over many people."
"Nevertheless," said Bilbil with conviction, "Rinkitink's head is
certainly empty of brains."
"That I am unwilling to believe," insisted Inga. "But anyway his heart
is kind and gentle and that is better than being wise. He is merry in
spite of misfortunes that would cause others to weep and he never
speaks harsh words that wound the feelings of his friends."
"Still," growled Bilbil, "he is--"
"Let us forget everything but his good nature, which puts new heart
into us when we are sad," advised the boy.
"But he is--"
"Come with me, please," interrupted Inga, "for the matter of which I
wish to speak is very important."
Bilbil followed him, although the boy still heard the goat muttering
that the King had no brains. Rinkitink, seeing them turn into the
ruins, also followed, and upon joining them asked for his breakfast.
Inga opened the sack of food and while he and the King ate of it the
boy said:
"If I could find a way to remove some of the blocks of marble which
have fallen in the banquet hall, I think I could find means for us to
escape from this barren island."
"Then," mumbled Rinkitink, with his mouth full, "let us move the blocks
of marble."
"But how?" inquired Prince Inga. "They are very heavy."
"Ah, how, indeed?" returned the King, smacking his lips contentedly.
"That is a serious question. But--I have it! Let us see what my famous
parchment says about it." He wiped his fingers upon a napkin and then,
taking the scroll from a pocket inside his embroidered blouse, he
unrolled it and read the following words: 'Never step on another man's
toes.'
The goat gave a snort of contempt; Inga was silent; the King looked
from one to the other inquiringly.
"That's the idea, exactly!" declared Rinkitink.
"To be sure," said Bilbil scornfully, "it tells us exactly how to move
the blocks of marble."
"Oh, does it?" responded the King, and then for a moment he rubbed the
top of his bald head in a perplexed manner. The next moment he burst
into a peal of joyous laughter. The goat looked at Inga and sighed.
"What did I tell you?" asked the creature. "Was I right, or was I
wrong?"
"This scroll," said Rinkitink, "is indeed a masterpiece. Its advice is
of tremendous value. 'Never step on another man's toes.' Let us think
this over. The inference is that we should step upon our own toes,
which were given us for that purpose. Therefore, if I stepped upon
another man's toes, I would be the other man. Hoo, hoo, hoo!--the other
man--hee, hee, heek-keek-eek! Funny, isn't it?"
"Didn't I say--" began Bilbil.
"No matter what you said, my boy," roared the King. "No fool could have
figured that out as nicely as I did."
"We have still to decide how to remove the blocks of marble," suggested
Inga anxiously.
"Fasten a rope to them, and pull," said Bilbil.
"Don't pay any more attention to Rinkitink, for he is no wiser than the
man who wrote that brainless scroll. Just get the rope, and we'll
fasten Rinkitink to one end of it for a weight and I'll help you pull."
"Thank you, Bilbil," replied the boy. "I'll get the rope at once."
Bilbil found it difficult to climb over the ruins to the floor of the
banquet hall, but there are few places a goat cannot get to when it
makes the attempt, so Bilbil succeeded at last, and even fat little
Rinkitink finally joined them, though much out of breath.
Inga fastened one end of the rope around a block of marble and then
made a loop at the other end to go over Bilbil's head. When all was
ready the boy seized the rope and helped the goat to pull; yet, strain
as they might, the huge block would not stir from its place. Seeing
this, King Rinkitink came forward and lent his assistance, the weight
of his body forcing the heavy marble to slide several feet from where
it had lain.
But it was hard work and all were obliged to take a long rest before
undertaking the removal of the next block.
"Admit, Bilbil," said the King, "that I am of some use in the world."
"Your weight was of considerable help," acknowledged the goat, "but if
your head were as well filled as your stomach the task would be still
easier."
When Inga went to fasten the rope a second time he was rejoiced to
discover that by moving one more block of marble he could uncover the
tile with the secret spring. So the three pulled with renewed energy
and to their joy the block moved and rolled upon its side, leaving Inga
free to remove the treasure when he pleased.
But the boy had no intention of allowing Bilbil and the King to share
the secret of the royal treasures of Pingaree; so, although both the
goat and its master demanded to know why the marble blocks had been
moved, and how it would benefit them, Inga begged them to wait until
the next morning, when he hoped to be able to satisfy them that their
hard work had not been in vain.
Having little confidence in this promise of a mere boy, the goat
grumbled and the King laughed; but Inga paid no heed to their ridicule
and set himself to work rigging up a fishing rod, with line and hook.
During the afternoon he waded out to some rocks near the shore and
fished patiently until he had captured enough yellow perch for their
supper and breakfast.
"Ah," said Rinkitink, looking at the fine catch when Inga returned to
the shore; "these will taste delicious when they are cooked; but do you
know how to cook them?"
"No," was the reply. "I have often caught fish, but never cooked them.
Perhaps Your Majesty understands cooking."
"Cooking and majesty are two different things," laughed the little
King. "I could not cook a fish to save me from starvation."
"For my part," said Bilbil, "I never eat fish, but I can tell you how
to cook them, for I have often watched the palace cooks at their work."
And so, with the goat's assistance, the boy and the King managed to
prepare the fish and cook them, after which they were eaten with good
appetite.
That night, after Rinkitink and Bilbil were both fast asleep, Inga
stole quietly through the moonlight to the desolate banquet hall.
There, kneeling down, he touched the secret spring as his father had
instructed him to do and to his joy the tile sank downward and
disclosed the opening. You may imagine how the boy's heart throbbed
with excitement as he slowly thrust his hand into the cavity and felt
around to see if the precious pearls were still there. In a moment his
fingers touched the silken bag and, without pausing to close the
recess, he pressed the treasure against his breast and ran out into the
moonlight to examine it. When he reached a bright place he started to
open the bag, but he observed Bilbil lying asleep upon the grass near
by. So, trembling with the fear of discovery, he ran to another place,
and when he paused he heard Rinkitink snoring lustily. Again he fled
and made his way to the seashore, where he squatted under a bank and
began to untie the cords that fastened the mouth of the bag. But now
another fear assailed him.
"If the pearls should slip from my hand," he thought, "and roll into
the water, they might be lost to me forever. I must find some safer
place."
Here and there he wandered, still clasping the silken bag in both
hands, and finally he went to the grove and climbed into the tall tree
where he had made his platform and seat. But here it was pitch dark, so
he found he must wait patiently until morning before he dared touch the
pearls. During those hours of waiting he had time for reflection and
reproached himself for being so frightened by the possession of his
father's treasures.
"These pearls have belonged to our family for generations," he mused,
"yet no one has ever lost them. If I use ordinary care I am sure I need
have no fears for their safety."
When the dawn came and he could see plainly, Inga opened the bag and
took out the Blue Pearl. There was no possibility of his being observed
by others, so he took time to examine it wonderingly, saying to
himself: "This will give me strength."
Taking off his right shoe he placed the Blue Pearl within it, far up in
the pointed toe. Then he tore a piece from his handkerchief and stuffed
it into the shoe to hold the pearl in place. Inga's shoes were long and
pointed, as were all the shoes worn in Pingaree, and the points curled
upward, so that there was quite a vacant space beyond the place where
the boy's toes reached when the shoe was upon his foot.
After he had put on the Shoe and laced it up he opened the bag and took
out the Pink Pearl. "This will protect me from danger," said Inga, and
removing the shoe from his left foot he carefully placed the pearl in
the hollow toe. This, also, he secured in place by means of a strip
torn from his handkerchief.
Having put on the second shoe and laced it up, the boy drew from the
silken bag the third pearl--that which was pure white--and holding it
to his ear he asked.
"Will you advise me what to do, in this my hour of misfortune?"
Clearly the small voice of the pearl made answer:
"I advise you to go to the Islands of Regos and Coregos, where you may
liberate your parents from slavery."
"How could I do that?" exclaimed Prince Inga, amazed at receiving such
advice.
"To-night," spoke the voice of the pearl, "there will be a storm, and
in the morning a boat will strand upon the shore. Take this boat and
row to Regos and Coregos."
"How can I, a weak boy, pull the boat so far?" he inquired, doubting
the possibility.
"The Blue Pearl will give you strength," was the reply.
"But I may be shipwrecked and drowned, before ever I reach Regos and
Coregos," protested the boy.
"The Pink Pearl will protect you from harm," murmured the voice, soft
and low but very distinct.
"Then I shall act as you advise me," declared Inga, speaking firmly
because this promise gave him courage, and as he removed the pearl from
his ear it whispered:
"The wise and fearless are sure to win success."
Restoring the White Pearl to the depths of the silken bag, Inga
fastened it securely around his neck and buttoned his waist above it to
hide the treasure from all prying eyes. Then he slowly climbed down
from the tree and returned to the room where King Rinkitink still slept.
The goat was browsing upon the grass but looked cross and surly. When
the boy said good morning as he passed, Bilbil made no response
whatever. As Inga entered the room the King awoke and asked:
"What is that mysterious secret of yours? I've been dreaming about it,
and I haven't got my breath yet from tugging at those heavy blocks.
Tell me the secret."
"A secret told is no longer a secret," replied Inga, with a laugh.
"Besides, this is a family secret, which it is proper I should keep to
myself. But I may tell you one thing, at least: We are going to leave
this island to-morrow morning."
The King seemed puzzled' by this statement.
"I'm not much of a swimmer," said he, "and, though I'm fat enough to
float upon the surface of the water, I'd only bob around and get
nowhere at all."
"We shall not swim, but ride comfortably in a boat," promised Inga.
"There isn't a boat on this island!" declared Rinkitink, looking upon
the boy with wonder.
"True," said Inga. "But one will come to us in the morning." He spoke
positively, for he had perfect faith in the promise of the White Pearl;
but Rinkitink, knowing nothing of the three marvelous jewels, began to
fear that the little Prince had lost his mind through grief and
misfortune.
For this reason the King did not question the boy further but tried to
cheer him by telling him witty stories. He laughed at all the stories
himself, in his merry, rollicking way, and Inga joined freely in the
laughter because his heart had been lightened by the prospect of
rescuing his dear parents. Not since the fierce warriors had descended
upon Pingaree had the boy been so hopeful and happy.
With Rinkitink riding upon Bilbil's back, the three made a tour of the
island and found in the central part some bushes and trees bearing ripe
fruit. They gathered this freely, for--aside from the fish which Inga
caught--it was the only food they now had, and the less they had, the
bigger Rinkitink's appetite seemed to grow.
"I am never more happy," said he with a sigh, "than when I am eating."
Toward evening the sky became overcast and soon a great storm began to
rage. Prince Inga and King Rinkitink took refuge within the shelter of
the room they had fitted up and there Bilbil joined them. The goat and
the King were somewhat disturbed by the violence of the storm, but Inga
did not mind it, being pleased at this evidence that the White Pearl
might be relied upon.
All night the wind shrieked around the island; thunder rolled,
lightning flashed and rain came down in torrents. But with morning the
storm abated and when the sun arose no sign of the tempest remained
save a few fallen trees.