Читать книгу Coco Bolo: King of the Floating Islands - Sidford F. Hamp - Страница 4

Shadow chasing

It was hot enough, though, hurry or no hurry, for the morning was unusually sultry. The sun beat down upon them, the ground was steaming and the air was all in a quiver; and what was worse, though they kept on walking and walking, they seemed to get no nearer to the other end of their shadows. It was rather discouraging.

They were persevering little girls, however, and knowing how pleased Daddy would be to learn whether it really was true about Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and Lobsterneck, the Great American Snap-Dragon, they kept on and on, growing more tired and more hot and more discouraged at every step—especially Frances, who had the puppy to carry—when, without their having noticed what had become of them, their shadows suddenly disappeared!

On the brink of a steep little cliff about six feet high, at the foot of which the waters of a small inlet gently lapped the rocks, there stood a grove of ten or twelve trees—short, stubby trees, all leaning landward, as trees growing on the edge of the sea always do. The shadows led the children straight to this grove of trees, and there, lo and behold! they vanished. Where had they got to?

Margaret and Frances looked all about. They looked upon the ground and they looked up into the trees, but look where they might no shadows could they see. Where had they got to?

"I wonder," said Frances, "if this isn't the place where Tommy—Tommy—what was his other name?"

"Little Tom Titmouse," replied her sister. "Perhaps it is. So let us sit down and wait. Perhaps, if we sit still and keep quiet, we may see King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop and—Are there such things as tame dragons, Frances?" she asked, suddenly remembering with some misgivings that little Tom Titmouse, besides making the desirable acquaintance of King Coco Bolo and the Archbishop, had also encountered a dragon—which was quite another thing.

"There must be," replied Frances, reflectively. "Daddy told us to try to get to that place, and if the dragon hadn't been a tame dragon he wouldn't—"

"No, of course he wouldn't," interrupted Margaret, reassured. "So we'll sit down and wait, and perhaps—Oh! Look!" pointing out over the shimmering sea. "There are some new islands! One, two, three of them, besides the old ones. Look! Oh! One of them has split in two! Now there are four! Now there are five! What funny islands!"

Sitting in the cool shade of the trees, the children watched the new islands come and go, grow large and larger, break in two, vanish and come again. It was very fascinating and also very mysterious. How did they get there? Where had they come from? And why, Oh, why did they keep shifting about like that? Were they floating islands? It seemed likely, for Daddy had once told them something about floating islands with flower gardens on them, though where they were situated Margaret could not remember.

"I shouldn't be a bit s'prised"—she began, when, turning to her sister, she noticed that an ant was running over the back of Frances' hand. Knowing very well that Frances objected to the tickling of ants and spiders and such things, Margaret glanced quickly at her face, and then smiled a superior smile.

"She's so young," said she, by way of explaining it. "She's only six and a quarter. It isn't as if she was nearly eight. I won't disturb her. I'll let her sleep just as long as she likes."

Observing that the yellow plush puppy was lying on his back with his feet in the air, she went on:

"I may just as well lie down too while I'm waiting. I'll put Periwinkle on this flat stone: he'll make a very good pillow. Ah! How nice it is here under the trees. I wish the branches would keep still, though, so that the sunlight wouldn't keep flicking into my eyes. I'll put my hat over my face, and then—Yes, that's better. Now, I'll just shut my eyes and wait till Frances—"

"Ting-a-ling-a-ling!"

Margaret had not had her eyes shut one minute—no, not half a minute, she was sure—when she heard the sound of a little bell somewhere close by. She sat bolt upright and listened, while Periwinkle, who had been uncomplainingly serving her as a pillow, the valiant Periwinkle sprang up on his sausage legs and began to growl fiercely—as fiercely, that is to say, as was to be expected of a yellow plush puppy with a fixed red worsted smile.

"Ting-a-ling-a-ling!" went the bell again. The sound seemed to come up from the edge of the water at the foot of the cliff. Margaret jumped up, and followed by Periwinkle she stepped softly to the edge of the rocks and peeped over.