The Greatest Adventure Books for Children. Люси Мод Монтгомери

downward with all her might. The blade fell upon the Indian's neck and shivered into several pieces.

      "He's wood, your Majesty," said the Executioner. "I simply can't cut his head off."

      "Get a meat cleaver!" cried the kinglet. "Do you suppose I'll allow Wart-on-the-Nose to live when he hasn't any wart on his nose? Get the cleaver instantly!"

      So the girl brought a big meat cleaver, and lifting it high in the air, struck the Indian's neck as hard as she could.

      The cleaver stuck fast in the wood; but it didn't cut far enough to do much harm to the victim. Indeed, Wart-on-the-Nose even laughed, and then he said:

      "There's a knot in that neck—a good oak knot. You couldn't chop my head off in a thousand years!"

      The kinglet was annoyed.

      "Pull out that cleaver," he commanded.

      The girl tried to obey, but the cleaver stuck fast. Then the Failings tried, one after another; but it wouldn't budge.

      "Never mind, leave it there," said the Indian, rolling over and then getting upon his feet. "It won't bother me in the least. In fact, it will make a curious ornament."

      "Look here, Sir John Dough," said the kinglet, turning to the gingerbread man; "what am I going to do? I've said the Indian must die, because he has no wart on his nose. And I find I can't kill him. Now, you must either tell me how to get out of this scrape or I'll cut your head off! And it won't be as hard to cut gingerbread as it is wood, I promise you."

      This speech rather frightened John, for he knew he was in great danger. But after thinking a moment he replied:

      "Why, it seems to me very easy to get out of the difficulty, your Majesty. The Indian's only offense is that he has no wart on his nose."

      "But that is a great offense!" cried the kinglet.

      "Well, let us whittle a wart on his nose," said John, "and then all will be well."

      The kinglet looked at him in astonishment.

      "Can that be done?" he asked.

      "Certainly, your Majesty. It is only necessary to carve away some of the wood of his nose, and leave a wart."

      "I'll do it!" shouted the kinglet, in great delight. And he at once sent for the Royal Carpenter and had the man whittle the Indian's nose until a beautiful wart showed plainly on the very end.

      "Good!" said the King.

      "Good!" echoed the Indian, proudly. "Now none of those miserable Failings dare say my name is not suitable!"

      "I'm very sorry about that cleaver," remarked the kinglet. "You'll have to carry it around wherever you go."

      "That's all right. I'll add to my name and call myself Wart-on-the-Nose-and-Cleaver-in-the-Neck. That will be a fine Indian name, and no one can prove it is not correct."

      Saying this, the wooden Indian bowed to the kinglet, gave a furious war-whoop, and stalked stiffly from the room.

      "Bring on the next prisoner!" shouted the kinglet, and both Chick and John gave a gasp of surprise as Imar was brought into the room. The inventor of the flying-machine, however, did not seem the least bit frightened, and bowed calmly before the throne.

      "What's the charge against this man?" inquired the kinglet.

      "He's accused of being a successful inventor," said one of the guards. "The other inventors claim no one who succeeds has a right to live in the Isle of Phreex."

      "Quite correct," replied his Majesty. "Cut off his head, Maria."

      "Alas, Sire! my sword is broken!" she exclaimed.

      "Then get another."

      "But I have no other sword that is sharpened," she protested.

      "Then sharpen one!" retorted the kinglet, frowning.

      "Certainly, your Majesty. But a sword cannot be properly sharpened in a minute. It will take until to-morrow, at least, to get it ready."

      "Then," said the kinglet, "I'll postpone the execution until to-morrow morning at nine o'clock. If you're not ready by that time I'll get a new Royal Executioner and you'll lose your job."

      "I shall be ready," said the girl, and walked away arm in arm with the sad young man, on whom she smiled sweetly.

      "It's all right," whispered Chick to John. "Imar won't get hurt, for the kinglet will forget all about him by to-morrow."

      "And now, my guards," said his Majesty, stretching his arms and yawning, "bring hither my two-legged horse, that I may take a ride around my kingdom."

      "NOW, YOU SIT STILL AND BEHAVE YOURSELF"

      So presently the guards led in a big, raw-boned nag that had two legs instead of four, and these two set in the middle of its body. It seemed rather frisky and pranced around in a nervous manner, so that the kinglet had great difficulty in mounting the horse's back, whereon was a saddle made of purple velvet and cloth of gold.

      "Hold still, can't you?" cried the kinglet.

      "I can; but I won't," said the horse, in a cross tone, for it appeared the animal was able to talk.

      "I'll thrash you soundly, if you don't behave!" screamed the kinglet.

      "I'll kick you in the ribs, if you dare to threaten me!" returned the horse, laying back its ears. "Why, you miserable little freckle-faced kinglet, I could run away with you and break your neck, if I wanted to!"

      "That's true," said his Majesty, meekly. "I beg your pardon for my harsh words. Let us be friends, by all means!"

      The horse snorted, as if with contempt, and the guards finally managed to hoist the little kinglet to his seat upon the animal's back.

      "Throw away that mace!" cried the horse.

      His Majesty obeyed, at once.

      "Now," said the animal, "you sit still and behave yourself, or I'll dump you over my head. Understand?"

      "I understand," said the kinglet.

      "Very good!" declared the horse. "When you're on your throne you're a tyrant; but when you're on horseback you're a coward, because you're at my mercy, and you know it. Now, we are off."

      The beast pranced down the hall and out of the arched entrance, bearing the kinglet upon his back; and when they were gone John and Chick started to take a walk along the beach of the seashore.

      But no sooner had they stepped into the courtyard than an awful yell saluted their ears, and before them stood the form of the terrible Arab!

The Palace of Romance

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      "He must have broken loose!" cried Chick. "Let us run, John Dough, before he can eat you."

      At once John turned to fly, with Chick grasping his hand to urge him on. Ali Dubh had indeed succeeded in breaking through the iron grating of his prison, and had even managed to untie his hands. But his legs were still