A TRIP TO THE GNOMES.
“Wamby,” said Harry, after they had sailed for some time in silence,
“what are we going to the Gnomes for?”
“I have some friends there that I want to see,” replied Wamby.
“Are there many of the Pin Elves there?”
“A great many. I once counted up over five hundred that I knew of, and
there are a large number of others who have been sent there.”
“What are they sent for, breaking the laws?”
“Oh! no. I myself am the only one I ever knew of who deliberately broke
a law. The others were banished for displeasing the King. For instance,
twelve friends of mine were sent to the Gnomes at one time, simply
because they contradicted the King. He declared that the katydids had
more beautiful voices than the crickets, and because they refused to
agree with him they were banished. Then there was Kitey, a dear friend
of mine, but an awful big fool in one way. He was so afraid of turning
his back on the King that he never took his eyes off the King’s face
when in the royal presence. One day at a banquet Kitey sat next to
me, and I told him a funny story and made him laugh. Of course he was
looking at the King all the time, and just then the King unluckily
spilt some soup on his royal mantle, and seeing Kitey looking at him
and laughing, he thought he was laughing at _him_; so away Kitey went
to the Gnomes.”
“It’s shameful!” exclaimed Harry, indignantly. “Why do you stand it? I
should think all of you would hate such a wicked King.”
“Well, everybody does hate him,” said Wamby, “except a few persons,
like the Lord of the Safety-Pin, who are the King’s favorites. But what
can you do?”
“Do!” cried Harry, “why, elect another King.”
“Elect another King!” repeated Wamby, as if bewildered at the very
idea.
“Yes,” said Harry. “He’s the wickedest old tyrant I ever heard of. If
most of you dislike him, the best thing to do is to choose some good
elf as King, and send the old one off.”
“But that would be rebellion,” said Wamby, faintly. The project was so
bold that it fairly took his breath away.
“No,” answered Harry, “it would be a revolution, and that is perfectly
right in a case like this.”
“But the King has all the soldiers under his command,” said Wamby.
“Pshaw!” exclaimed Harry, “what do they amount to! There must be
thousands of you Pin Elves, and you could easily conquer five hundred
soldiers.”
“It’s all well enough to talk,” returned Wamby, “but you forget another
very serious fact, and that is the effect of the royal hat-pin, and the
awe and terror it always inspires. You yourself have seen how easily
I controlled those soldiers with the hat-pin; but imagine how much
greater would be the effect if it were in the King’s hands.”
“That’s so,” said Harry, “I never thought of that.”
After a long silence he crawled back to the stern of the boat, and sat
down beside Wamby.
[Illustration: Two boys sitting]
“Look here, Wamby,” he said, “I have an idea.” And then he began a
long whispered conversation with the elf, as if afraid to let even the
darkness around them hear what he had to say.
Finally Wamby said, “Well, I am doubtful about it; but you are my
master, and if you command me to do it, I shall have to obey.”
“That’s so. I forgot I had your hat on my head,” said Harry, feeling to
make sure that the hat was still there. “Well, then, I command you to
do it. Does that settle the matter?”
“Yes, that settles it,” replied the elf.
Meanwhile, they had been drawing near the other shore. The little
red star had been gradually growing larger and brighter, and they
began now to see clearly the brilliant, ruddy, furnace fires, and to
distinguish the forms of Gnomes moving about at their work. The heat
had become so intense that Harry took off his coat and vest, and wet
his head a number of times with the cool water.
As they drew close to the shore, Wamby steered the boat aside out of
the direct current of wind, and it gradually slowed up and stopped
alongside of a landing-place. They both stepped out, and Wamby made the
boat fast.
“You’d better take a good drink,” said he to Harry, “and wet your
handkerchief and tie it around your head. It’s awfully hot here.”
“How do they stand it?” asked Harry.
“Oh! the Gnomes are used to it. But you notice there are no Pin Elves
here. It is too hot for them. They work in the mines, digging out the
metal. Of course it’s warm enough there, but not nearly so bad as this.”
He drew forth the hat-pin from his belt, and held it up before some
soldiers standing near, “Here, you!” he said to one of them, “keep
guard over that boat!” Then addressing another soldier: “And you, go
ahead and lead us straight to your King. Trot along lively! We haven’t
any time to spare, and even if we had, it’s too hot to loiter here.”
They hastened away as fast as possible, but although they were running
briskly, and although Harry himself was most anxious to escape from
the terrible heat, he could not refrain from casting several curious
glances about him. It was indeed a strange and weird scene. Long rows
of fiercely glowing furnaces, with scores of misshapen, hideous-looking
Gnomes busily at work; some bringing loads of freshly-dug ore in funny
little wheelbarrows; some tending the fires and stirring the redhot
coals with long pokers; some with big ladles skimming the refuse from
the top of the molten metal, or pouring it from the crucibles into
moulds; some trotting away with barrows full of new-made gold and
silver bars. Then, further along, were hundreds of forges, with Gnomes
still more ugly working the metals into all sorts of beautiful and
curious forms.
Had it not been so terribly hot, Harry would gladly have stopped and
watched them; but as it was, he was very willing to hurry by as fast
as his legs could carry him, and was thankful when they entered
a corridor and shut a stone door behind them. It was still warm,
of course, being so far down in the earth, but the temperature was
comfortable, as compared with the intense heat from the fires.
Presently they reached a large hall, with the floor covered with pure
gold, the sides covered with silver, and the ceiling inlaid with
countless precious stones. The light was so brilliant and dazzling that
Harry was half blinded, and had to shade his eyes for some moments
before he could see anything.
At the further end of the hall was the King of the Gnomes on his
throne. On each side of him sat the Grand Prime Minister and the Grand
Recorder, and beside them were ranged a double row of armed soldiers.
It seemed to Harry that the Gnomes had picked out the oldest and
ugliest one of their number for King, and then the next two ugliest
ones for Prime Minister and Recorder. The King had an immense gray
beard, so long and bushy that the ends of it were spread out on the
floor in front of him like a rug. In his right hand he held, as a
sceptre, a small golden pickax, to show that all the wealth of his
kingdom came from the mines.
As Harry and Wamby drew near the throne, the King growled forth, “What
do you want?”
Wamby held forth the hat-pin, and replied, “We are come to demand of
you to deliver to us every Pin Elf now in Your Majesty’s dominions.”
“Hum! hah!” growled the King, frowning terribly. He looked first at the
Grand Prime Minister, and then at the Grand Recorder, as much as to
say, “What do you think of that?”
Those two worthies of course knew better than to make any reply. They
simply bowed very low, as if to say, “We think whatever Your Majesty is
pleased to think.”
Then the King stared at his golden pickax with his right eye, which, by
the way, was much larger than the other eye, and had a most horrible
glare.
“Hum! hah!” he muttered again, and turned that awful eye of his upon
Harry.
The poor boy was shaking in his shoes from fright, but he returned the
King’s gaze with a bold countenance.
“Shall we run, Wamby?” he whispered.
“No, keep still, or we’re lost!” replied the elf.
Finally the King summoned an officer, and said, in a snarling tone,
“Take a hundred soldiers, and bring hither all of the Pin Elves in my
dominions. Begone!”
Presently the officer returned with the elves. They looked astonished
and bewildered when they saw Harry and Wamby, and bowed low to the King
of the Gnomes and then to the royal hat-pin, but of course were afraid
to say a word.
“There they are,” growled the King, with a rather menacing wave of his
pickax. “Take them, and begone!”
Nothing loth, they all retired from the room as fast as they could back
out.
“Now I’ll run ahead and get the boats ready,” said Wamby, “and the rest
of you hurry after me before the King has a chance to change his mind
and stop us.”
By the time they reached the lake, Wamby had a fleet of boats in
waiting, and had adjusted a piece of hose and turned on the wind. It
took but a moment for them to tumble aboard and push the boats into the
wind, and they were soon sailing rapidly towards home.