THE TABLES TURNED.
“Look here, Wamby,” said Harry, “don’t get excited. Let’s talk over the
matter. There must be some way for us to get out.”
Wamby shook his head disconsolately.
“Maybe the soldiers can help us,” Harry went on. “They are able to open
the door above; couldn’t we induce them to get ropes and draw us out?”
“’Tisn’t possible,” replied Wamby. “In the first place, we can’t
communicate with them unless they open the trap-door, and you must
remember that they are afraid of us as well as of Smithkin, for they
consented to our being dumped down here; then again, even if they
were willing to draw us out, how could they get the rope necessary?
Certainly, they wouldn’t dare go near the King, after having let us
escape.”
Just then there was a loud shriek from one of the elves at the other
end of the room, followed by a chorus of shrill, elfish laughter.
“What’s the matter?” asked Wamby rather sternly.
“Kitey sat down on a pin,” was the reply, “and he jumped up at least a
foot high.”
Kitey was seen rubbing himself and examining the skirt of his jacket,
and then suddenly he uttered a surprised exclamation and ran up to
Wamby.
“Here’s the door-pin!” he cried; “it was sticking in my coat.”
“How did it get there?” demanded Wamby.
“Perhaps,” said Harry, “when we tumbled down here it got loose and
stuck in Kitey’s jacket. I remember now, I fell on top of Kitey.”
Wamby eagerly seized the pin, and putting it in the hole, pressed upon
it and repeated the usual words. The door opened and revealed a flight
of steps immediately under the incline. They ascended these, and at
the top Smithkin showed them a door through which they emerged in the
passageway near where the soldiers were. At sight of them the soldiers
scampered into the room containing the trap-door.
Wamby’s quick eye noted that they had neglected to remove Smithkin’s
door-pin from the hole, so he ran up, and placing his finger on the
head of the pin, shouted “Surrender instantly, or I’ll dump you all
down below! Lay down your arms and walk out here, and I’ll promise to
treat you well.”
[Illustration: Boy kneeling]
Without hesitation the scared soldiers dropped their spears, and
hurried out into the passageway.
“Now,” said Wamby, drawing forth the pin, “Kitey, you take fifty of our
men and arm them with those spears, and keep guard over these soldiers.”
Then Wamby nodded to Harry, who in a second seized Smithkin, took away
his spear, and held him fast while two of the elves bound his hands
behind him.
“Guard him closely, and keep him separate from the rest,” ordered Wamby.
After Smithkin had been removed to a distance, Wamby turned to the
disarmed soldiers and said, “Do any of you know where the royal armory
is?”
“Smithkin is the only one who knows,” one of the men replied. “We
common soldiers were never allowed to go to the armory.”
Wamby beckoned Harry aside, and whispered, “What can we do now? It
seems impossible to arm the rest of our men.”
“I have a scheme that may answer,” said Harry. And he whispered the
scheme in Wamby’s ear.
Wamby pondered a minute. “It’s very bold,” he said, “but it strikes me
as the only course open to us. Let us try it.”
Then, returning and addressing the soldiers: “Do you fellows know the
way to the Grand Royal Reception Hall?”
The soldiers consulted together a moment, and then one of them stepped
forward, and answered, “I know the way.”
“I want you to lead us there,” said Wamby. “If we succeed in what we
are about to attempt, I promise that each one of you fifty will be well
rewarded. If we fail, you will be no worse off than you are now. Will
you conduct us?”
The spokesman nodded, and answered boldly, “We will. We are under your
orders.”
They forthwith proceeded under the guidance of the spokesman, and soon
came to a large chamber, somewhat broader than the one containing the
trap-door. Here the soldier stopped, and pointing to a passageway at
the other end of the chamber, said in a low tone, “The Hall is at the
end of that short passageway. The door is the one you may have seen on
the left of the King, near the throne. There are two soldiers guarding
the door, but if you will permit one of my companions and myself to go
to them alone, I think we can entice them to this room, and you can
capture them.”
Wamby looked at him sharply. “I’ll trust you,” said he; “take a man
with you, and go.”
When they had gone, Wamby ordered the elves to stand along the walls so
as not to be seen by any one in the passageway, and then he placed his
fifty armed men on each side of the entrance.
After a little silent waiting, the two soldiers came running into the
chamber, followed closely by the two guards. The latter of course were
speedily captured, disarmed, and bound.
“Now,” said Wamby to his armed followers, “you men remain concealed as
before on each side of this entrance, and await further orders. And the
rest of you keep where you can’t be seen from the passageway.”
Beckoning to Harry, he entered the passageway and came to the door at
the end.
“First let us take a peep,” said he; and opening the door on a crack,
they looked out into the Reception Hall.
After the door closed, Harry whispered, “There are only a few of the
body-guard there. No doubt the King has heard of our escape from the
prison, and sent most of his soldiers to find us. Are you all ready? Be
sure to shut the door after I come out, and keep it shut as long as you
can. I am ready.”
Wamby pressed upon the pin, and the door swung open. With a yell loud
enough to scare a thousand elves, Harry dashed up to the throne, picked
the little King up bodily, and rushed back through the doorway before
any of the soldiers had a chance to touch him. Without stopping he
ran on to the chamber, and laying the King down, called out, “Here,
some of you fellows, come and help me!” For by this time the King was
struggling, scratching, and biting like a vicious cat.
But not an elf moved. They simply looked on in amazement and fear.
“Afraid, eh?” cried Harry. “Well, perhaps you’d better not have a hand
in it.”
Placing one knee on the King’s body, he drew forth the royal hat-pin
and stuck it in his own coat. Then he took off the crown and placed it
over Wamby’s hat on top of his own head, and loosing the royal mantle,
pinned it over his own shoulders.
“Now,” said he, springing up, “_I_ am king. Take that fellow and bind
him. Don’t hurt him, though,” he cried, as he saw the vengeful, angry
looks with which the elves rushed upon their disrobed tyrant. “Any one
that injures him will be sent back to the Gnomes. He’ll be punished in
due time. You men that are armed, follow me to relieve Wamby.”
They were just in time; for, notwithstanding Wamby’s efforts, the door
was being gradually forced open by the ex-King’s body-guard.
“Let ’em come, Wamby!” shouted Harry.
As the door flew open, Harry stepped forward with a stern, commanding
look, and held up the royal hat-pin. The soldiers stopped, looked in
bewilderment at the crown on his head, and then bowed low to the floor.
“Drop your spears! Rise! March into that chamber!” cried Harry. The
terrified soldiers instantly obeyed. “Kitey,” called Harry, “have some
of our men arm themselves with those spears, and follow me.”
By this time a large crowd of the elves in the Hall had gathered about
the doorway.
“Clear the way to my throne,” commanded Harry, addressing his fifty
armed men. “Come, Wamby,” he continued, and marching solemnly forward,
he ascended the steps to the throne and seated himself, motioning Wamby
to a seat on his right, and Kitey to one on his left.
“Now,” began Harry,—and then he suddenly stopped and glared at Wamby,
whose face showed an almost irresistible tendency to burst out laughing.
“What are you grinning at?” demanded Harry sternly.
“Please excuse me, master,” said Wamby; “but you do look awfully funny!”
He certainly did look comical. The King’s mantle was like a little
baby’s cape on his shoulders, and the collar of it would not reach
half-way around his neck. Wamby’s pointed hat was so small that it
simply perched on top of his head. And the crown, with the hat poking
through it, while it was very beautiful, with its gold and diamonds and
rubies, yet looked like some little toy crown.
As Harry thought of it all, he nearly burst out laughing himself,
especially when he noticed how solemnly he was holding up that
ridiculous hat-pin sceptre. But of course he realized that it would
never do to laugh as long as he was king, so he frowned very hard at
Wamby, and said in a solemn tone, to one of his fifty armed men,
“Cause all of the Pin Elves to assemble in my presence. Take some
soldiers with you and bring hither also the former King and Smithkin.”
“Now,” continued Harry, when this had been done, “let us proceed to
business.”
But before he had a chance to say more, there was a loud knock on the
outside of the door by which they had come in, and, as if in answer to
it, another loud knock was heard on a door at the opposite side of the
Hall.
Harry leaned over towards Wamby, and whispered, “What does that mean?”
Wamby shook his head seriously, and replied, “I don’t know.”