IN THE ROYAL PALACE
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
Such a vivid, unfamiliar racket had seemingly never before disturbed the
native town of the Island Windjammers.
The whole settlement seemed to wake up at once. Bob Vilett was fairly
startled at the result of his sharp rapid fusillade.
He had a heap to do, however, and he had no time to observe what was
going on outside.
The balloon called first for Bob's attention. The shots alone had not
directed the excited natives to the public tribune. The balloon, rising
majestically, centered all eyes on that central meeting-place.
A hush of awe hung over the crowd. Bob started up the phonograph.
He did not know what the little machine was saying. He could only
surmise that it was grinding out a speech from Stoodles. Loud and
sonorous rang forth the tones of the fertile-minded Milesian.
Bob, venturing to peer from the bowl that encased him, was truly amazed.
Most of the crowd that had gathered stood perfectly still. Some of the
more superstitious, at a sight of the strange balloon, had fallen
prostrate in terror.
The speech now coming forth from the phonograph had a wonderful effect.
It seemed to transfix the people. There was not a murmur, a stir, until
the last word had issued from the phonograph. Then babel broke loose,
the spot was deserted by magic. Men shouted, yelled, ran over each
other in a pell-mell dash in the direction of the king's palace.
Bob tried hard to guess out the situation. He could only reason that the
speech in the old familiar tones of their former king, coming from an
unseen, mysterious source, had duly impressed the people. The shots,
the balloon now dropping a vivid trail of sparks far aloft, had added to
the general effect.
"I suppose I'm due to wait here until further orders," ruminated Bob.
"I'd like to know what is going on in the palace, though."
Bob got restive thinking about this. The commotion and excitement
around the palace were momentarily increasing.
"I can be of no further use here," thought Bob. "I don't see how
Stoodles is going to get me out of here without giving the natives a
hint as to my agency in sending up the fireworks and playing the
phonograph. I'm going to get out of this; yes, I am."
Bob was an impatient, persistent sort of a fellow. Having made up his
mind to leave his hiding-place, he promptly succeeded in getting out of
the bowl and down onto the ground.
"I'm safe in this outlandish garment Pat gave me," reasoned Bob,
securing his belongings under its folds. "I'm going to join the
procession and see what is going on."
Bob pressed on the outskirts of the howling, excited mob that surrounded
the palace. Then he edged his way in among them.
He found out that the robe he wore was indeed "taboo." People made way
for him. Thus proceeding, Bob got finally right up to the little pagoda
that Stoodles had designated to him as the royal council room.
Its entrance was choked and crowded with natives trying to enter.
Bob kept working his way farther and farther along. At last he squeezed
past two great greasy sentinels and saw Pat Stoodles.
The Milesian sat on a heap of skins next to a throne raised on a dais.
Upon the throne itself sat a dusky native. Bob decided, from his manner
and the deference with which he was treated by the others, that he must
be the king.
All around were savages, more or less decorated in a way not common with
the simple natives.
These persons, Bob knew, must comprise the nobility and the high-priests
of the tribe.
Stoodles was speaking volubly, and seemed to take his honors and the
situation in an easy, familiar way.
Of course Bob could not understand the native tongue, but he quickly saw
that in some way the shrewd Milesian had got things on a most friendly
basis with the tribe and its leaders.
"I wish I could get nearer and attract his attention," thought Bob. "I
want him to know I have left the public square. I'll venture it. Pat!"
The next moment Bob Vilett was sorry he had spoken. He had not realized
that to utter a word unbidden in the royal council room without royal
permission was to court the severest public censure.
Four guards grabbed him up in a moment. All those around the royal dais
looked towards the present center of commotion in amazement.
Bob struggled in the grasp of his fierce captors, but was hampered by
the bundles he carried. Suddenly one of the guards discovered he had
shoes on. They tore away the garment encircling him. Some hurried
words were called out to the king. In stern tones that monarch
responded.
Bob could tell from the menacing manner of the guards that he was being
borne away to punishment.
"Stoodles! Pat Stoodles!" he shouted at the top of his voice.
"Aha!" he heard Stoodles exclaim, and then the Milesian added words in
the native language.
The guards looked amazed. They received a new order from the king. Bob
was carried to the foot of the dais.
"Make a bow," suggested Stoodles, and Bob did so. Stoodles no longer
wore the mourning garb. That on Bob was riddled.
"It's all roight. I was soon coming after you," said Stoodles.
"Everything is fixed."
"How fixed?" inquired the wondering Bob.
"Don't you see," insinuated the smiling Stoodles, with a gracious wave
of his hand, "nothing is too good for me or my friends?"
"How did you work it?" asked Bob, feeling perfectly safe and easy now.
"That phonnygraph recited a great spaach of mine. It told the people
that they would find their old king, myself, seated on the throne here.
Why, lad, when they did find me I could have ousted the new king in a
minute. I was magnanimous, though. I only asked some information. I
told him he could keep his throne in peace."
The king and his counselors stared at the twain as they conversed, but
did not interrupt.
"Whisht, lad!" continued Stoodles, with a chuckle. "They've given me
some great information."
"What is it?" asked Bob.
"The _Raven_ crowd are alive. I have found out where they are."
"Good!" said Bob.
"I have threatened all kinds of fire gods and cyclone demons unless they
set Dave Fearless free."
"Will they?" asked Bob eagerly.
"Shure they will. He'll be here safe and sound in a few minutes.
There's the guards they sent for him now."
Some natives bearing spears came hurrying into the room. There arose a
great excited jabber. Stoodles rose up in manifest disappointment.
"What about Dave?" persisted Bob.
"Ochone!" cried Pat Stoodles. "Dave has spoiled everything!"
"Spoiled everything?" repeated Bob.
"Yes; Dave has escaped."