John Dough and the Cherub
                          by
                     L. Frank Baum

  Published in 1906 by The Reilly & Britton Company
    [Illustrations by John R. Neill not included]


LIST OF CHAPTERS

The Great Elixir
The Two Flasks
The Gingerbread Man
John Dough Begins his Adventures
Chick, the Cherub
The Freaks of Phreex
The Lady Executioner
The Palace of Romance
The Silver Pig
Pittypat and the Mifkets
The Island Princess
Para Bruin, the Rubber Bear
Black Ooboo
Under Land and Water
The Fairy Beavers
The Flight of the Flamingoes
Sport of Pirate Island
Hiland and Loland
King Dough and his Court


The Great Elixir

Over the door appeared a weather-worn sign
that read: "JULES GROGRANDE, BAKER."
In one of the windows, painted upon a sheet of
cardboard, was another sign: "Home-made Bread
by the Best Modern Machinery." There was a
third sign in the window beyond the doorway, and
this was marked upon a bit of wrapping-paper,
and said: "Fresh Gingerbread Every Day."

When you opened the door, the top of it struck
a brass bell suspended from the ceiling and made
it tinkle merrily.  Hearing the sound, Madame
Leontine Grogrande would come from her little
room back of the shop and stand behind the counter
and ask you what you would like to purchase.

Madame Leontine -- or Madame Tina, as the
children called her -- was quite short and quite fat;
and she had a round, pleasant face that was good
to look upon.  She moved somewhat slowly, for
the rheumatism troubled her more or less; but no
one minded if Madame was a bit slow in tying up
her parcels.  For surely no cakes or buns in all the
town were so delicious or fresh as those she sold,
and she had a way of giving the biggest cakes to
the smallest girls and boys who came into her shop,
that proved she was fond of children and had a
generous heart.

People loved to come to the Grogrande Bakery.
When one opened the door an exquisite fragrance
of newly baked bread and cakes greeted the nostrils;
and, if you were not hungry when you entered,
you were sure to become so when you
examined and smelled the delicious pies and
doughnuts and gingerbread and buns with which
the shelves and show-cases were stocked.  There
were trays of French candies, too; and because all
the goods were fresh and wholesome the bakery
was well patronized and did a thriving business.

The reason no one saw Monsieur Jules in the
shop was because his time was always occupied in
the bakery in the rear -- a long, low room filled
with ovens and tables covered with pots and pans
and dishes (which the skillful baker used for mixing
and stirring) and long shelves bearing sugars and
spices and baking-powders and sweet-smelling
extracts that made his wares taste so sweet and agreeable.

The bake-room was three times as big as the
shop; but Monsieur Jules needed all the space in
the preparation of the great variety of goods
required by his patrons, and he prided himself on
the fact that his edibles were fresh-made each day.
In order to have the bread and rolls ready at
breakfast time he was obliged to get up at three
o'clock every morning, and so he went to bed
about sundown.

On a certain forenoon the door of the shop
opened so abruptly that the little brass bell made
a furious jingling.

An Arab dashed into the room, stopped short,
looked around with a bewildered air, and then
rushed away again and banged the door after him.

Madame looked surprised, but said nothing.
She recognized the Arab to be a certain Ali Dubh,
living in the neighborhood, who was accustomed to
purchase a loaf from her every morning.  Perhaps
he had forgotten his money, Madame thought.

When the afternoon was half over he entered
again, running as if fiends were at his heels.  In
the center of the room he paused, slapped his
forehead despairingly with both palms, and said in a
wailing voice:

"They're after me!"

Next moment he dashed away at full speed, even
forgetting to close the door; so Madame came from
behind the counter and did it herself.  She delayed
a moment to gaze at the figure of Ali Dubh racing
up the street.  Then he turned the corner of an
alley and disappeared from view.

Things did not startle Madame easily; but the
Arab's queer behavior aroused in her a mild
curiosity, and while she stood looking through the
glass of the door, and wondering what had excited
the man, she saw two strange forms glide
past her shop with a stealthy motion and proceed
in the same direction Ali Dubh had taken.

They were also Arabs, without a doubt; for
although their forms were muffled in long cloaks,
the turbans they wore and the glint of their dark,
beady eyes proclaimed them children of the desert.

When they came to the alley where Ali Dubh
had disappeared, the two strangers were joined by
a third, who crept up to them with the sly, cat-like
tread Madame had noted, and seemed to confer
with them.  Afterward one turned to the east, a
second continued up the street, and the third stole
into the alley.

"Yes," thought Madame, "they are after Ali
Dubh, sure enough.  But if they move so slowly
they are not likely to catch the poor fellow at all."

Now, Madame knew very little of her queer
customer; for although he made a daily visit to the
bakery for a loaf and a few cakes, he was of a
gloomy disposition, and never stopped for a chat or
a bit of gossip.  It was his custom to silently make
his simple purchases and then steal softly away.

Therefore his excited actions upon this eventful
day were really remarkable, and the good lady was
puzzled how to explain them.

She sat late in the shop that evening, burning a
dingy oil lamp that swung in the center of the
room.  For her rheumatism was more painful than
usual, and she dreaded to go to bed and waken
Monsieur Jules with her moanings.  The good man
was slumbering peacefully upstairs -- she could hear
his lusty snores even where she sat -- and it was a
shame to disturb him when he must rise so early.

So she sat in her little room at the end of the
counter, trying to knit by the light of a flickering
candle, and rocking back and forth in her chair
with a monotonous motion.

Suddenly the little bell tinkled and a gust of air
entered the shop, sending the mingled odors of
baked stuff whirling and scurrying about the room
in a most fragrant manner.  Then the door closed,
and Madame laid down her knitting and turned to
greet the new-comer.

To her astonishment, it proved to be Ali Dubh.
His brown cheeks were flushed, and his glittering
black eyes roamed swiftly over the shop before they
turned full upon the Madame's calm face.

"Good!" he exclaimed, "you are alone."

"It is too late for trade.  I am going to bed
presently," said Madame.

"I am in great trouble, and you must help me,"
returned the Arab, hastily.  "Lock your door and
come with me into your little room, so that no
one can see us through the street windows."

Madame hesitated.  The request was unusual,
and she knew nothing of the Arab's history.  But
she reflected that if the man attempted robbery or
other mischief she could summon Monsieur Jules
with a cry.  Also, her interest had been aroused by
Ali Dubh's queer behavior during the day.

While she thought the matter over the Arab
himself locked the street door and hurried into the
little room, where Madame composedly joined him
a moment later.

"How can I help you?" she asked, picking up
her knitting again.

"Listen!" said the Arab.  "I must tell you all.
You must know the truth!" He put his hand in
a pocket of his loose robe and drew out a small
flask.  It was no bigger than two fingers and was
made of pure gold, upon which strange characters
had been richly engraved.

"This," said the Arab, in a low, impressive voice,
"is the Great Elixir!"

"What does that mean?" asked Madame, glancing
at the flask doubtfully.

"The Great Elixir?  Ah, it is the Essence of
Vitality, the Water of Life -- the Greatest Thing
in all the World!"

"I don't understand," said Madame.

"Not understand?  Why, a drop of the priceless
liquid which this Golden Flask contains, if
placed upon your tongue, would send new life
coursing through your veins.  It would give you
power, strength, vitality greater than youth itself!
You could do anything -- accomplish wonders --
perform miracles -- if you but tasted this precious liquid!"

"How odd!" exclaimed Madame, beginning to feel
bewildered.  And then she asked: "Where did you get it?"

"Ah!  that is the story.  That is what you must
know," answered Ali Dubh.  "It is centuries old,
the Great Elixir.  There is no more of it in all the
world.  The contents of this flask came into the
keeping of the Ancestor of the Chief of my Tribe
-- whom we call a Sheik -- and has been handed
down from father to son as an heirloom more
priceless than diamonds.  The Chief of my Tribe,
its last owner, carried the flask always hidden in
his breast.  But one day, when he and I were
hunting together, a mad camel trampled the Sheik
to his death, and with his last breath he gave the
Great Elixir into my keeping.  The Sheik had no
son, and the flask was really mine.  But many
other Arab Sheiks longed for the treasure and
sought to gain it.  So I escaped and wandered over
the world.  I came here, thinking I was safe from
pursuit.  But they have followed me!"

"All the way from Arabia?" asked Madame.

"Yes.  To-day I saw them.  They know my
lodgings.  They are secretly hidden near, and
before morning I know they plot to kill me
and secure the Great Elixir.  But for a time I
have escaped them.  I came here unseen.  You
must help me.  You must take charge of the
Great Elixir and keep it safely for me."

"Nonsense!" cried Madame, becoming aroused at last.

"Do not say that, I beg of you," exclaimed the
eager Arab.  "You are honest -- I know you are!
And they will never suspect you of having the Golden Flask."

"Perhaps not," said Madame, "and then, again,
they may.  My business is to tend the shop, and I
am not going to get myself killed by a lot of
desperate foreigners just to oblige you, Monsieur Ali
Dubh!  Take your Great Elixir to some one else.
I don't want it."

For a minute the Arab seemed in despair.  Then
his face suddenly brightened.

"You suffer from rheumatism, do you not?" he asked.

"Yes, it's pretty bad to-night," she replied.

"Then I will cure it!  I will cure your pains
forever if you will keep my precious Elixir in
secret until I come to reclaim it."

Madame hesitated, for just then she had a very
bad twinge indeed.

"You think you can cure my pains?" she asked.

"I know it!" declared the Arab.  He put his
hand in a pocket and drew out another flask -- a
mate to the one containing the Great Elixir; only
this was made of solid silver instead of gold.

"This flask," said Ali Dubh, "contains a positive
cure for rheumatism.  It will not fail.  It never
has failed.  Take it and use it to make yourself
well.  Five drops in a bowl of water are enough.
Bathe well the limbs that ache, and all pain will be
gone forever.  Accept it, gracious Madame, and
keep for me the other flask in safe hiding until my
enemies have gone away."

Madame was a practical woman, and it seemed
an easy thing to do as the Arab desired.  If she
could get relief from those dreadful pains it would
be well worth while to undertake a little trouble
and responsibility by caring for Ali Dubh's other
and more precious flask.

"Very well," said she.  "I agree."

The Arab's face flushed with joy.

"Good," he cried; "I am saved!  Guard well
my precious flask -- the one of gold.  Show it to no
one -- not even to your good husband.  Remember
that diamonds and rubies could not buy the Great
Elixir -- the marvelous Essence of Vitality.  As for
the silver flask, I give it to you freely.  Its
contents will cure all your ailments.  And now, good
night, and may Allah bless you!"

Swiftly he stole from the room, unlocked the
street door and vanished into the darkness.  And
Madame sat looking thoughtfully at the flasks.


The Two Flasks

Presently she remembered that the front door
was yet unlocked.  So she trotted out into the
shop, bolted the door securely, drew down the
curtains, and put out the dim light that had burned
over the counter.  Then Madame returned to the
little room and looked at the two flasks again.

Aside from her rheumatism the good lady had
one other physical weakness; she was color-blind.
That is, she could seldom distinguish one color
from another, and was quite liable to think blue
was green and green was yellow.  Many people
have this trouble with their eyes; but it never had
bothered Madame especially in waiting upon her customers.

Now, however, when she came back into her
room and gazed at the two flasks upon her table,
she had no idea which one was of gold and which
of silver, for the weakness of her eyes prevented
her from telling them apart by means of their color.

"Let me see," she murmured; "this must be
the flask which the Arab first drew from his pocket.
No -- I think this was the one." But the more she
hesitated the more confused she became, and in the
end she told herself honestly that she had not the
faintest clue to guide her in knowing which flask
contained the Essence of Vitality and which the
cure for rheumatism.

And the pains were now so bad that she was
anxious to cure them without a moment's delay.

The engraving on the two flasks was nearly the
same; and if some of those queer foreign characters
really differed, Madame did not know it.  Also
in size and shape the flasks were exactly alike.
Truly Madame was in a fine quandary, and there
seemed no way of getting out of it with safety.

She had almost decided to hide both flasks until
the Arab returned, when several sharp twinges of
pain caught her and made her long most earnestly
for relief.  If she went to bed now she would be
sure to suffer all night, and in one of the flasks was
a sure cure.

"I'll guess at it, and take the chances!" declared
Madame, firmly.  And then, choosing at haphazard,
she hid the silver flask behind the mirror
and put the gold one in her pocket.  Afterward
she picked up the lamp and walked as silently as
possible through the short passage that led to
Monsieur Jules' bake-room.

The big place was still and dark, and the little
lamp only brightened a small part of it.  But
Madame did not care for that.  Those pains were
getting extremely hard to bear, and she had even
ceased to care whether or not she had selected the
right flask.

Taking a brown bowl from the shelf she drew it
nearly full of water and then placed it upon a
corner of the long, white mixing-table, beside the
lamp.  Next she took the golden flask from her pocket.

"How much did the Arab say to put in the water?"
she wondered, pausing in perplexed
thought.  "I declare, I've actually forgotten!
But he said it was sure to cure me,
so I may as well use all the flask contains.
For, after I am cured, I shall not need any more of it."

Reasoning thus, Madame removed the stopper
and poured into the bowl every drop of that
precious Elixir which Ali Dubh had prized more
than life itself, and which his wild countrymen had
come all the way from Arabia to America to possess.
For generation after generation the priceless
liquor had been preserved with jealous care,
and now the baker's wife was rubbing it upon her
limbs in an endeavor to cure the pangs of rheumatism!

She used very little of the contents of the bowl,
after all.  The touch of the Elixir upon her skin,
although it was diluted with so much water, sent
a glow of exhilaration throughout all her stout body.

The pains were suddenly eased, and Madame
began to feel as light and airy as a fairy, in spite
of her great mass of flesh.

It occurred to her that she would like to dance;
to run and shout, to caper about as she used to do
as a girl.  But soon her shrewd common sense returned,
and she told herself this was but the effect
of the wonderful medicine, and that the wisest
thing she could do was to go to bed and sleep
soundly while she might.

Being still somewhat bewildered, the good woman
picked up the lamp, and, leaving the bowl
containing the Elixir standing upon the table,
mounted the stairs with lighter steps than she had
known in years.

Five minutes later she was in bed, snoring as
loudly as Monsieur Jules himself.


The Gingerbread Man

The baker awoke at three o'clock, and soon
afterward came downstairs yawning and rubbing
his eyes in his accustomed manner.  For it is a real
hardship to arise in the middle of the night and go
to work, and Monsieur Jules sometimes regretted
he was such a skillful baker; for any other profession
would have allowed him to sleep until daylight.
But the bread and rolls and gingerbread must be
fresh and warm by breakfast time, or the people
would be sadly disappointed; and the only possible
way to get them ready was to start the work at
three o'clock.

First, he lighted the big swinging lamps, which
made the room bright as day, and then he built
the fires in the great furnaces.  Presently these last
were roaring in a very business-like manner, and as
soon as he heard the roar Monsieur Jules began to
whistle.  It was his custom, and kept him from
getting lonesome while he worked.

Next he kneaded the bread, formed it into
loaves, and placed them in long rows upon the
slabs -- ready for the oven.  The rolls were then
mixed and kneaded, and it took a longer time to
get them ready than it had the bread, for they were
small and quite daintily shaped.  But at last the
important task was completed, and while they
were rising and the ovens heating, Monsieur mixed
his gingerbread and cakes.

Somehow, the work progressed very swiftly this
morning, and after a time the baker found he had
a good hour to spare before the ovens would be ready.

Then a sudden idea struck him.

"Why, to-day is the Fourth of July," he thought,
"and that is a National Holiday.  I think I will
make a fine gingerbread man, such as I used to
make in Paris, and put it in the shop window to
attract attention.  These Americans like enterprise,
and they have never seen a gingerbread man, for I
have not made one since I came to this country."

With Monsieur Jules, to think was to act, and
scarcely had he spoken these words when he began
to gather his material together for a great batch of
gingerbread dough.  For he resolved that the man
he was about to make should be big enough and
fine enough to arouse the wonder of all beholders.

He began by filling a great bowl with flour, and
then rubbed into the flour some butter and lard.
"That will make it short," said Monsieur, "although
it is to be a tall man." Then he added some
molasses.  "He will be a sweet fellow," thought
the baker, smiling at his own pleasantries.  Then
he shook in the ginger and several fragrant spices,
and began mixing the dough into one great mass.

"It is too stiff," reflected the baker, a few
moments later.  "My man must not be stiff, for that
would render him disagreeable." He laughed at
the whimsical thought, and glancing around, saw
the brown bowl that Madame had left sitting upon
a corner of the table.  It was nearly full of the
precious liquid, and Monsieur Jules, with his mind
intent upon his work, never stopped to wonder
how it came there.  Perhaps he thought he had
himself unconsciously filled the bowl with water.
Anyway, he dumped all of the Essence of Vitality
-- the Great Elixir which could never be duplicated
in all the world -- into the mass of dough he was
preparing for his gingerbread man!

Monsieur merely noticed that the dough had now
become the proper consistency, and mixed easily.

Whistling merrily, he presently spread the huge
batch of dough upon the big table and began rolling
it and working it into the shape he desired.

Ah, but Monsieur Jules Grogrande was a true
artist, although a baker!  Under his skillful hands
the gingerbread man slowly but surely took form;
and the form was fully as large as that of a
well-grown fourteen-year-old boy.  But it was by no
means a boy that Monsieur was forming with such
care; it was, rather, the figure of a typical French
gentleman, such as may seldom be met with elsewhere
than on the boulevards of Paris.  It was
interesting to watch the figure grow: interesting, of
course, to Monsieur Jules, as there was no one
else in the bake-room to see.

The man appeared to be dressed in excellent
fashion.  Monsieur made him a collar and shirt-front
of white bread dough, which looked very beautiful in
contrast to the brown gingerbread-dough of his
clothes.  Then with a lump of dough, carefully
kneaded, he formed the man's necktie, making a
very artistic bow indeed.  A waistcoat of fashionable
cut was next added.  The buttons on the
man's coat were white lozenges, and to represent
shoes the baker mixed his dough with licorice, until
the shoes seemed as black and shiny as if freshly polished.

You would have loved to see, could you have been
present, the delicate skill with which the clever
baker carved the hands and fingers of his man, using
a small but sharp knife, and patting and rounding
each dough finger into proper shape.  He even
clipped from a sheet of transparent celluloid the
finger-nails, and pressed them carefully into the
dough at the ends of the fingers.  Who but
Monsieur would ever have thought of such a thing?

But, after all, it was upon the face that the
baker exercised his best skill.  As a sculptor forms
his models out of clay, so Monsieur pressed and
squeezed and molded his pliant dough, until every
feature of the gingerbread man became wonderfully
lifelike.  Of course the face was made of the
white dough, with just a trifle of the pink
coloring mixed into it to make it resemble real
flesh.  But the wavy hair that surrounded the
face was of gingerbread-dough, as its brown
color, after it had been baked, would be quite
natural and lifelike.

Among the things brought from Paris by the
Grograndes was a pair of excellent glass eyes,
and Monsieur Jules rummaged in a drawer until he
found them, and then pressed them into the dough
face.  And now it positively seemed that the
gingerbread man was looking at you, and the eyes
lent its face a gentle and kindly expression.

"There's something lacking, however," murmured
the baker, looking at his work critically.
"Ah, I know -- it's the teeth!"

Teeth for a gingerbread man!  But nothing
was easier to represent, once their absence was
noted.  Between the lips of the man our baker
pressed two rows of small white candies, and it was
wonderful to remark the pleasant smile that now
lent its charm to the face.

With a sigh of satisfaction in the result of his
work, the baker at last declared his gingerbread man
ready for the oven.

"And it is my masterpiece!" cried Monsieur
Jules, proudly.  "Never, even in Paris, have I seen
so perfect a man of dough.  He is well worthy to
have a name, and I will call him John Dough,
which will be appropriate, indeed!"

But the great ovens were now glowing brightly,
so Monsieur filled them with bread and rolls, and
watched them carefully until the big and little
loaves were all done to a turn.  The cakes and
cookies came next, and by the time that dawn
arrived the front shop was stocked with heaps of
the warm, fresh-smelling loaves and rolls, and trays
of delicious cakes and buns, hot from the ovens.

Then the baker came back to his gingerbread
man, which he first placed gently upon a great iron
slab, and then slid it all into the open door of a
perfectly heated oven.

With great anxiety Monsieur watched the oven.
The dough was properly mixed, the workmanship
was most excellent.  Would the baking turn out
to be as perfect as the rest?  Much good dough
may be spoiled in the baking.  None knew that
better than Jules Grogrande.

So he tended the oven with nervous care, and
finally, at exactly the right moment, the baker
threw open the oven door and drew out the sheet of iron
upon which the great and grand gingerbread man rested.

He was baked to perfection!

Filled with pride and satisfaction, Monsieur bent
admiringly over his great creation; and as he did
so, the gingerbread man moved, bent his back, sat
up, and looked about him with his glass eyes, while
a wondering expression crept over his face.

"Dear me!" said he, "isn't it very warm and
close in this room?"

The Great Elixir had accomplished its purpose.
The wonderful Essence of Vitality, prized for centuries
and closely guarded, had lent its marvelous
powers of energy, strength, and life to a gingerbread
man!  And all through the stupidity of a baker's
wife who was color-blind and could not distinguish
a golden flask from a silver one!

Monsieur Jules, who knew nothing of the Arab's
flasks, or of the Great Elixir, glared wildly into the
glass eyes of the gingerbread man.  He was at
first sure that his own eyes, and also his ears, had
played him a trick.

"John Dough -- John Dough!" he cried, "did you speak?
Merciful heavens!  Did you speak, John Dough?"

"I did," said the gingerbread man, struggling to
rise from the slab, "and I declare that it is warm
and close in this room!"

Monsieur Jules gave a scream of terror.  Then
he turned and fled.

A moment later he staggered into the shop,
tossed his hands above his head, and fell in a heap
upon the floor -- being overcome by a fainting spell.

Madame, who had just come downstairs and
opened the shop, gazed upon her husband's terrified
actions with an amazement that prevented her from
moving a limb or uttering a sound.

What in the world could have happened to Jules?

Then she received the greatest shock of her life.

From out the door of the bake-room came a
gingerbread man, so fresh from the oven that the
odor of hot gingerbread surrounded him like a
cloud.  He looked neither to right nor left, but
picked Monsieur's tall silk hat from off a peg and
placed it carelessly upon his own head.  Next he
caught up a large candy cane from a show-case,
stepped over the prostrate body of the baker, and
so left the shop, closing the front door behind him.

Madame saw him passing the windows, stepping
along briskly and swinging the cane in his left hand.

Then the good lady imitated her husband's
example.  She gave a shrill scream, threw up
her hands, and tumbled over unconscious.


John Dough Begins his Adventures

Now, when John Dough left Madame Grogrande's
shop and wandered up the street, he was reeking
with the delightful odor of fresh gingerbread.
Indeed, he was still so hot from the oven that I am
positive you could not have held your hand against
him for more than a second.  The Great Elixir
had brought him to life, and given him a certain
standing in the world; but during the first half-hour
of his existence John Dough was very hot-headed.
Also he was hot-footed, for he discovered
that, by walking fast, the contact with the fresh
morning air drew the heat from his body and made
him feel much more comfortable.

One virtue lent by the Great Elixir was knowledge,
and while John Dough felt that he possessed
unlimited knowledge (having had an overdose of
the Elixir), he could not very well apply it to his
surroundings because he lacked experience with the
world, which alone renders knowledge of any value
to mankind.  John Dough could speak all languages --
modern and classic.  He had a logical and
clear mind -- what is called a "level head," you
know; and this was coupled with good sense, fair
judgment, and a tangled mass of wisdom that had
been dumped into him in a haphazard fashion.
But these rare qualities were as yet of no use to
our man because he had acquired no experience.
It was like putting tools into a scholar's hands
and asking him to make a watch.  John Dough
might accomplish wonders in time, if he did not
grow stale and crumble; but just now he was the
freshest individual that ever came out of a bake-room.

It was still early morning, and most folks were in bed.
A prowling dog smelled the gingerbread and came trotting
up with the intention of having a bite of it; but John
Dough raised his candy cane and hit the dog a clip
on the end of its nose that sent the animal in
another direction with its tail between its legs.
Then, whistling merrily, the gingerbread man walked
on.  He knew no tune whatever, but he could whistle,
and so he managed to express an erratic mixture of
notes that would have made Herr Wagner very proud.

His flesh (or bread, rather) was cooling off
beautifully now.  He was growing hard and crisp
and felt much more substantial than at first.  The
baker had made him light and the Elixir had made
him strong and vigorous.  A great future lay
before John Dough, if no accident happened to him.

Presently some one said, "Hello!" John stopped
short, for in front of him stood a bright-eyed boy
with a piece of lighted punk in one hand and a bunch
of firecrackers in the other.  It was Ned Robbins, who had
been up since daybreak celebrating the Glorious Fourth.

"You skeered me at first," said the boy, with a look of
amazement that he tried to cover with a laugh.

"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," returned John Dough, politely.

"Been to a masquerade?" asked Ned, staring
hard at the gingerbread man.

"No, indeed," replied the other.  "I am not
disguised, I assure you.  You see me as I am."

"G'wan!" exclaimed Ned.  But he could smell
the gingerbread, and he began to grow frightened.
So he touched the punk to the fuse of his biggest
firecracker, dropped it on the ground at the feet of
John Dough, and then turned and scampered up
an alley as fast as he could go.

The gingerbread man stood still and looked after
Ned until the cracker suddenly exploded with a
bang that caused John's candy teeth to chatter.
His whole body was terribly jarred and he nearly
fell backward in the shock of surprise.  Then he,
also, started to run.  It was not fear, so much as
ignorance of what might happen next, that caused
him to fly from the spot; but he ran with a speed
that was simply wonderful, considering that his limbs
were of gingerbread.  Truly, that Arabian Elixir
was a marvelous thing!

Bang!  He had run plump into another group of
boys, knocking two of them over before they could
get out of his way.  His silk hat was jammed over his
eyes and the candy cane struck the wheel of a toy
cannon and broke off a good two inches from its end.

As he pulled off his hat he heard a shout and
saw the boys all scrambling for the broken end
of the candy cane.  One of them grabbed it and
ran away, and the others followed in a mad chase
and were soon out of sight.

John Dough looked after them wonderingly.
Then he drew himself up, pulled down his fine
vest, sighed at discovering a slight crack in his
shirt-front, and walked slowly along the street
again.  His first experience of life was not
altogether pleasant.

"Good gracious!" said a voice.

He paused, and saw a woman leaning over a
gate beside him and glaring at him in mingled
surprise and terror.  She held a broom in her hand,
for she had been sweeping the walk.  John lifted
his hat politely.

"Good morning, madam," said he.

"Why, it's really alive!" gasped the woman.

"Is a live person so very unusual?" asked John,
curiously.

"Surely, when he's made of cake!" answered the
woman, still staring as if she could not believe her
eyes.

"Pardon me; I am not cake, but gingerbread,"
he answered, in a rather dignified way.

"It's all the same," she answered.  "You haven't
any right to be alive.  There's no excuse for it."

"But how can I help it?" he asked, somewhat
puzzled by this remark.

"Oh, I don't suppose it's your fault.  But it isn't
right, you know.  Who made you?"

"Jules Grogrande, the baker," he said, for he
had read the name over the door.

"I always knew there was something wrong with
those Frenchies," she declared.  "Are you done?"

Before he could reply she had drawn a large
straw from the broom and stuck it several inches
into his side.

"Don't do that!" he cried, indignantly, as she
drew out the bit of broom again.

"I was only tryin' you," she remarked.  "You're
done to a turn, and ought to make good eating
while you're fresh."

John gazed at her in horror.

"Good eating!" he cried; "woman, would you murder me?"

"I can't say it would be exactly murder," she
replied, looking at him hungrily.

"To destroy life is murder!" he said, sternly.

"But to destroy gingerbread isn't," she rejoined.
"And I can't see that it's cannibalism to eat a man
if he happens to be cake, and fresh baked.  And that
frosting looks good.  Come inside while I get a knife."

She opened the gate and tried to grab John
Dough by an arm.  But he gave a sudden backward
leap and then sped down the street at a furious
run, looking neither to right nor left in his
eager flight.

Luckily, he was not in the center of the town,
but near the outskirts, and the houses were few
and scattered.

By and by he saw a deserted barn near the
roadside.  The door was half open and sagged on
its hinges, so it could not be closed.

John darted into the barn and hid behind some
hay in the far side.  He was thoroughly frightened,
and believed he must avoid mingling with the people
of the town if he would escape instant destruction.

A knife!  A knife!  The word kept ringing in
his ears and filled him with horror.  A knife could
slice him into pieces easily.  He imagined himself
sliced and lying on a plate ready for hungry folks
to eat, and the picture made him groan aloud.

All through the day he kept securely hidden
behind the hay.  Toward evening he decided to
revisit the bakery.  It was a difficult task, for he
had passed through many streets and lanes without
noticing where he was going, and it grew darker
every minute.  But at last, just as he was beginning
to despair, he saw a dim light in a window and read
over the door the sign: "Jules Grogrande, Baker."

He opened the door so softly that the little bell
scarcely tinkled.  But no one would have heard it
had it rung loudly, for there was a confused murmur
of fierce voices coming from the little room Madame
usually occupied.

John Dough skipped behind the counter, where he
could see into the room without being seen himself.

Around the little table stood the Arab, Monsieur
Jules, and Madame, and they were all staring
angrily into each other's faces.

"But the flask!" cried Ali Dubh.  "Where is my precious flask?"

"It is here," said Madame, reaching behind the mirror and
drawing forth something that glittered in the lamplight.

"But this is the silver flask -- the cure for rheumatism,"
exclaimed the Arab.  "Where is my Golden Flask -- containing
the priceless Elixir of Life?"

"I must have made a mistake," said Madame,
honestly; "for my eyes are so queer that I cannot
tell gold from silver.  Anyway, the contents of the
other flask I emptied into a bowl of water, and
rubbed my limbs with it."

The Arab shouted a despairing cry in his native
tongue and then glared wildly at the woman.

"Was it the brown bowl, Leontine?" asked
Monsieur Jules, trembling with excitement.

"Yes," she answered.

"Where is it?  Where is it?" demanded the Arab, in a
hoarse voice.  "The precious liquor may yet be saved."

"Too late, Monsieur," said the baker, shaking
his head, sadly.  "I used the contents of the bowl
to mix the dough for my gingerbread man."

"A gingerbread man!  What do you mean?" asked Ali Dubh.

"I baked a man out of gingerbread this morning,"
said Monsieur Jules, "and to my horror he
came alive, and spoke to me, and walked out of the
shop while he was still smoking hot."

"It is no wonder," said
the Arab, dolefully; for within him was enough of
the Great Elixir to bring a dozen men to life, and
give them strength and energy for many years.
Ah, Monsieur and Madame, think of what your
stupidity has cost the world!"

"I do not comprehend," said Madame, firmly,
"how the world has ever yet been benefited by the
Great Elixir, which you and your selfish countrymen
have kept for centuries corked up in a golden flask."

"Bismillah!" shouted the Arab, striking himself
fiercely across the forehead with his clinched fist.
"Cannot you understand, you stupid one, that it
was mine -- mine! -- this Wonderful Water of Life?
I had planned to use it myself -- drop by drop --
that I might live forever."

"I'm sorry," said Monsieur; "but it is your
own fault.  You forced my wife to care for the
flask, and you would not let her tell me about it.
So, through your own stupidity, I used it in the
gingerbread man."

"Ah!" said Ali Dubh, an eager gleam in his
eyes, "where, then, is that same gingerbread man?
If I can find him, and eat him, a bit at a time, I
shall get the benefit of the Great Elixir after all!
It would not be so powerful, perhaps, as in its
natural state; but it would enable me to live for
many, many years!"

John Dough heard this speech with a thrill of
horror.  Also he now began to understand how he
happened to be alive.

"I do not know where the gingerbread man is,"
said Monsieur.  "He walked out of my shop
while he was quite hot."

"But he can be found," said the Arab.  "It is
impossible for a gingerbread man, who is alive, to
escape notice.  Come, let us search for him at
once!  I must find him and eat him."

He fairly dragged Monsieur and Madame from
the room in his desperation, and John Dough
crouched out of sight behind the counter until he
heard them pass through the door and their footsteps
die away up the street.

The talk he had overheard made the gingerbread man
very sad indeed.  The bakery was no safe home for him,
after all.  Evidently it was the Arab's intention
to find him and insist upon eating him; and
John Dough did not want to be eaten at all.

Therefore his enemies must not find him.  They
were no safer to meet with than the awful woman
who wanted to cut him into slices; and he was learning,
by degrees, that all men were dangerous enemies to him,
although he had himself the form of a man.

He left the bakery and stole out into the street
once more, walking now in the opposite direction
from that taken by the Arab and the Grograndes.

As he hurried along he met with few people on
the streets; and these, in the dark, paid little
attention to the gingerbread man; so gradually his
spirits rose and his confidence in his future returned.

By and by he heard a strange popping and
hissing coming from the direction of the square in
the center of the town, and then he saw red and
green lights illuminating the houses, and fiery
comets go sailing into the sky to break into dozens
of beautiful colored stars.

The people were having their Fourth of July
fireworks, and John Dough became curious to
witness the display from near by.  So, forgetting
his fears, he ran through the streets until he came
to a big crowd of people, who were too busy
watching the fireworks to notice that a gingerbread
man stood beside them.

John Dough pressed forward until he was quite
in the front row, and just behind the men who
were firing the rockets.

For a time he watched the rush of the colored
fires with much pleasure, and thoroughly enjoyed
the sputtering of a big wheel that refused to go
around, merely sending out weak and listless spurts
of green and red sparks, as is the manner of such wheels.

But now the event of the evening was to occur.
Two men brought out an enormous rocket, fully
fifteen feet tall and filled with a tremendous charge
of powder.  This they leaned against a wooden trough
that stood upright; but the rocket was too tall to stay
in place, and swayed from side to side awkwardly.

"Here!  Hold that stick!" cried one of the
men, and John Dough stepped forward and grasped
the stick of the big rocket firmly, not knowing
there was any danger in doing so.

Then the man ran to get a piece of rope to tie
the rocket in place; but the other man, being
excited and thinking the rocket was ready to fire,
touched off the fuse without noticing that John
Dough was clinging fast to the stick.

There was a sudden shriek, a rush of fire, and
then -- slowly at first, but with ever-increasing
speed -- the huge rocket mounted far into the sky,
carrying with it the form of the gingerbread man!


Chick, the Cherub

The rocket continued to send out
fiery sparks of burning powder as it
plunged higher and higher into the black
vault of the heavens; but few of these
came in contact with John Dough, who clung
to the far side of the stick and so escaped being
seriously damaged.  Also the rocket curved, and
presently sped miles away over land and sea,
impelled by the terrible force of the powder it
contained.  John fully expected that it would
burst presently, and blow him to bits amid a cloud
of colored stars.  But the giant rocket was not
made in the same way as the other and smaller ones
that had been fired, the intention being merely to
make it go as high and as far as possible.  So it
finally burned itself out, but so great was the
speed it had attained that it continued to fly for
many minutes after the last spark had died away.

Then the rocket began to take a downward
course; but it was so high up, by that time, that
the stick and the empty shell flew onward hour
after hour, gradually nearing the ground, until
finally, just as a new day began to break, the huge
stick, with John Dough still holding fast to its end,
fell lightly upon an island washed on all sides by
the waves of a mighty sea.

John fell on a soft bush, and thence bounded to
the ground, where for a time he lay quite still and
tried to recover his thoughts.

He had not done much thinking, it seems, while
he was in the air.  The rush of wind past his ears
had dazed him, and he only realized he must cling
fast to the stick and await what might happen.
Indeed, that was the only thing to be done in such
an emergency.

The shock of the fall had for a moment dazed
the gingerbread man; and as he lay upon the
ground he heard a voice cry:

"Get off from me!  Will you?  Get off, I say!"

John rolled over and sat up, and then another
person -- a little man with a large head -- also sat
up and faced him.

"What do you mean by it?" asked the little
man, glaring upon John Dough angrily.  "Can't
you see where you're falling?"

"No," answered John.

It was growing lighter every minute, and the
gray mists of morning were fading away before the
rising sun.  John looked around him and saw he was
upon a broad, sandy beach which the waves of a great
sea lapped peacefully.  Behind was a green meadow,
and then mountains that rose high into the air.

"How did you happen to be where I fell?" he
asked, turning to the little man again.

"I always sleep on the sands," replied the other,
wagging his head solemnly.  "It's my fad.  Fresh
air, you know.  I'm called the 'Fresh-Air Fiend.'
I suppose you're a new inhabitant.  You seem
rather queer."

"I'm made of gingerbread," said John.

"Well, that certainly is unusual, so I've no doubt
you will be warmly welcomed in our Island,"
replied the man.

"But where am I?" asked John, looking around
again with a puzzled expression.

"This is the Isle of Phreex," answered the other,
"and it is inhabited by unusual people.  I'm one,
and you're another."

He made such a droll face as he said this that
the gingerbread man could not resist smiling, but
it startled him to hear another laugh at his back --
a sound merry and sweet, such as a bird trills.  He
swung around quickly and saw a child standing
upon the sands, where the rays of the sun fell
brightly upon its little form.  And then the glass
eyes of the gingerbread man grew big, and stood
out from his cake face in a way that fully expressed
his astonishment.

"It's a Vision!" he exclaimed.

"No, it's the Cherub -- whom we call Chick,"
answered the big-headed man, carelessly.

The child had fair hair, falling in fleecy waves to
its shoulders, but more or less tangled and neglected.
It had delicate features, rosy cheeks, and round
blue eyes.  When these eyes were grave -- which
was seldom -- there were questions in them; when
they smiled -- which was often -- sunbeams rippled
over their blue surfaces.  For clothing the child
wore garments of pure white, which reached from
the neck to the ankles, and had wide flowing sleeves
and legs, like those of a youngster's pajamas.  The
little one's head and feet were bare, but the pink
soles were protected by sandals fastened with straps
across the toes and ankles.

"Good morning," said John, again smiling and
hoping he had not stared too rudely.  "It gives
me great pleasure to meet you."

"My name's Chick," replied the child, laughing
in sweet trills, while the blue eyes regarded the
gingerbread man with evident wonder.

"That's a funny name," said John.

"Yes, it is funny," the child agreed, with a
friendly nod.  "Chick means a chicken, you know.
But I'm not a chicken."

"Of course not," returned John.  "A chicken
is covered with feathers.  And you are not."

At this Chick laughed merrily, and said, as if it were the
simplest thing in the world: "I'm the Incubator Baby, you know."

"Dear me, I hadn't the least idea of it," John answered gravely.
"May I ask what an Incubator Baby is?"

The child squatted down in the sand, hugged its chubby
knees, and uttered peal after peal of joyous laughter.

"How funny!" it gurgled; "how funny that you
don't know what the Incubator Baby is!  Really,
you must be fresh-baked!"

"I am," said John, feeling rather ashamed to
acknowledge the fact, but resolving to be truthful.

"Then, of course, you are very ignorant," remarked the
Fresh-Air Fiend, rubbing his big head complacently.

"Oh, as for that," said John, "I acquired, in
course of manufacture, a vast deal of ancient
learning, which I got from an Arabian Elixir with
which the baker mixed me.  I am well posted in
all events down to the last century, but I cannot
recall any knowledge of an Incubator Baby."

"No, they're a recent invention," declared the
big-headed man, patting tenderly the child's golden
curls.  "Were you, by any chance, at the Pan-American
Exposition?  Or the Louisiana Purchase Exposition?"

"No," answered John.  "My knowledge was
corked up about then."

"Well," continued the man, "there were a good
many Incubator Babies at both those expositions,
and lots of people saw them.  But Chick is the
first and only Original Incubator Baby, and so
Chick properly belongs in the Isle of Phreex."

Chick jumped up, made a stiff bow, and with
eyes sparkling with mischief exclaimed: "I'm six
years old and quite strong and well."

"Tut-tut, Chick!" remonstrated the big-headed
man; "it was more than two years ago you were
taught to make that speech.  You can't be always
six years old, you know."

The little sprite enjoyed the joke so much that
John was forced to laugh in sympathy.  But just then
a thought struck him, and he asked, a little nervously:

"Do you like gingerbread?"

"I don't know," replied Chick.  "Are you gingerbread?"

"I am," said John, bravely.

"Then I like gingerbread," the child declared;
"for you smell sweet and look kind and gentle."

John didn't know whether to accept this as a
compliment or not.  He was sorry to learn that
he smelled sweet, although to be called kind and
gentle was grateful praise.

"Some folks," he remarked, timidly, "have an
idea they like to eat gingerbread."

"I couldn't eat you," the child said, seriously,
"because, being the Incubator Baby, I have to be
very careful of my diet.  You might not agree with me."

"I'm sure I couldn't agree with any one who ate
me," John declared.  "For, although as yet I have
had no experience of that sort, it seems to me a
very undesirable fate."

"Very true," remarked the big-headed man.

"Let's be friends!" exclaimed Chick, coming
close to John and taking his soft brown hand in a
firm clasp.  "I'll take care of you."

John looked down at the merry little elf in positive wonder.

"We'll be friends, all right," said he; "but instead
of your taking care of me, Chick, I'll take care of you."

"Oh, there you are entirely wrong," broke in
the big-headed man.  "Chick's a privileged character
in the Isle of Phreex, and the only one of us
who dares defy our awful kinglet.  And in case of danger--"

"Danger!" cried John, with a start.  "Is there
danger here, too?"

Chick's laughter rang out at the foolish question,
but the man replied seriously:

"There is danger everywhere, to those who are
unusual, and especially in the Isle of Phreex, where
we are at the mercy of a horrid kinglet.  But
come; we must go and report your arrival to that
same graceless ruler, or we shall all be punished."

"Very well," said John, meekly.

But as he took Chick's hand and turned to
depart the Fresh-Air Fiend uttered an exclamation
of annoyance, and said:

"Here's bad luck already!  The Failings are coming this way."

As he spoke a noise of shouting and chattering
reached their ears, and presently several people
came around a corner of rock and stood before
John and his newly found friends.

"It's the Brotherhood of Failings," whispered
the big-headed man.  "Look out for them, or
they'll do you a mischief."

"Don't worry; I'll take care of you," said Chick,
pressing the dough hand.

John stared at the new-comers, and they returned
the compliment by staring at him.  A queerer lot
of folks could seldom have been seen together.

"This is the Blunderer," said the Fresh-Air Fiend,
indicating a short, fat man who was clothed in
glittering armor and bore a lance over his shoulder.
The Blunderer acknowledged the introduction by
bowing.  "And here is the Thoughtless One,"
continued the man, pointing to a tall, lean man
who was clothed in chamois-leather and carried a
wide-mouthed blunderbuss under his arm.

"Look out for the gun," said Chick; "he never
knows whether or not it is loaded."

"And here are the Disagreeable, and the
Unlucky, and the Sorrowful, and the Ugly, and the
Awkward," continued the big-headed man, pointing
out each Failing in turn.  "Their peculiarities you
will have no trouble to discover.  Indeed, on all
the Isle of Phreex, there is no one more unpleasant
to meet with than this same lot of Failings."

At this the Brothers all bowed, saying at the same time:

"We are proud of ourselves!"

At that instant the Awkward tripped over his
own toes and fell against the Blunderer, who
tumbled headlong and thrust his slim lance straight
through the body of John Dough.

"Oh!" cried Chick, greatly horrified.

"I told you so!" growled the Fresh-Air Fiend,
pulling out the lance hastily.  "Tell me, John
Dough, are you dead, or are you just dying?"

"Neither one," said John, ruefully pushing
together the hole that the lance had made; "but it
doesn't add to my personal appearance to be
prodded in that fashion.  I'm made of gingerbread,"
he explained, turning to the man in armor.

"I beg your pardon!  I really beg your pardon!"
said the Blunderer, greatly distressed at what he
had done.  "I had no intention of hurting you."

"He means well," said the Incubator Baby; but
that doesn't help much."

"He won't last long in this Island," grunted the
Bad-Tempered, referring to John Dough.

"Being made of gingerbread, he can't be expected
to last," remarked the Disagreeable, smiling in a
way that made John shudder.

"He shall have my protection," said the
Blunderer.  "It's the least I can do to make
amends.  Here -- put on this armor!"

He hastily began stripping off the plates of metal,
and placed the steel helmet over the head of the
gingerbread man.

"No, no!" exclaimed John.  "I don't want to
wear all that hardware."

"But you must!" cried the Blunderer.  "It's
the only way you can escape accident in this awful Island."

"That's true enough," agreed the big-headed
man.  "I advise you to wear the armor, my
gingerbread friend."

So John submitted to being dressed in the
armor, and no sooner had the plates been strapped
upon him than the wisdom of the act was apparent.
For there came a rush and whirl of sound, and suddenly
a great monster swept over the sands at the
very spot where they stood.  It sent the Brotherhood of
Failings sprawling in every direction, while the
Incubator Baby flew to the water's edge, and John
Dough's armor-clad body was knocked down and pressed
into the soft sand until it was level with the surface.

But presently Chick came back and made the others
dig him out and set him upon his feet again, and then
it was seen that no one had been seriously injured.

"What was it?" asked John, gazing in amazement at the
place where the monster had disappeared in the distance.

"It's the one-wheeled automobile," answered
the Sorrowful, "and unless it gets smashed mighty
soon the Isle of Phreex will be an Isle of Cripples.
I don't understand why they license the thing."

"Why, to make room for new arrivals, of course,"
declared the Disagreeable.  "But it was lucky for
the Pudding Man that he happened to be dressed in steel."

"I am not pudding, if you please," said John, indignantly.
"I beg you to remember that I am gingerbread."

"It's all one," remarked the Thoughtless, "your
cake is dough, anyhow."

"Let us return to the castle," the Ugly said.
"Our Kinglet should be introduced to his new subject."

So they all started off across the green, Chick
leading the gingerbread man, until they came to
a path leading upward through the rocks, along
which they began to ascend.  John had much
difficulty in keeping out of the way of the Awkward,
who tripped and stumbled constantly, while the
Blunderer insisted upon taking the wrong path,
and the Bad-Tempered stopped twice to fight with
the Disagreeable and the Thoughtless.  At last,
however, they reached the top, which proved to be
a broad plain of rock, upon which stood a great
castle with many tall spires and grim towers and
glittering minarets.

While they paused for John Dough to admire
the view, and that they all might get breath, a
sharp voice said near them:

"You're late, you lot of Failings, and the
Kinglet will scold."

John looked around, and saw perched upon a point of
rock beside the path a most curious looking creature.

"Don't stare!" it said, with a laugh.  "I don't,
and I've got a dozen eyes to your one.  Let me
introduce myself.  I'm the Prize Potato from the
Centerville Fair."

Indeed, John now noticed a big blue ribbon
twined around the middle of the potato, and on the
ribbon was printed in gold letters: "First Prize."

"Some day you'll sprout," said the Disagreeable, "and
then you won't have so many eyes."

The Prize Potato winked its numerous eyes, one after
the other, in a droll fashion, and answered:

"Some day you'll meet with an accident, my
dear Failing; but when you're planted in the
ground you'll not sprout at all.  That's where
I'm your superior, for I'm perpetual.  Every one
of my eyes is good for a half-peck of potatoes, at least."

"Unless you're boiled with your jacket on,"
remarked the Ugly, with a sour smile.

"Come, come!  Let us go on," interrupted the little man
with the big head.  "Our Kinglet doubtless awaits us."

When they had gone a few steps farther the
Incubator Baby paused to say: "Some one is
following us, and it's a stranger."

This remark caused John to look around, and
immediately he stopped short with an expression of
horror upon his frosted face.  For there, turning the
corner of the rocky path, was Ali Dubh the Arab.
The fellow at once uttered a yell of joy and
triumph, and drawing his gleaming knife he rushed
upon John Dough with great eagerness.

The gingerbread man had given up all hope of
escape and stood tremblingly awaiting his foe when
Chick suddenly grasped the Blunderer's lance and
tripped the Arab so neatly with it that Ali Dubh
fell his full length upon the path and broke his
knife-blade into a dozen pieces.  But he squirmed
forward and was about to bite into John's leg when
the big-headed man came to the rescue and threw
a handful of pebbles into the Arab's open mouth,
and so prevented him from doing the gingerbread
man any damage.

"He seems dangerous," remarked the Blunderer.
"Let's tie him up, before he hurts some one."

So while the Arab was coughing the pebbles out
of his mouth, the Brotherhood of Failings bound
his hands and feet with strong cords, so that he
could not move.

"He's mine!" shouted the Arab, as soon as he
could speak.  "He belongs to me.  I claim him
for my own."

"There's no harm in that," replied the Fresh-Air
Fiend.  "But one of the laws of this Isle is that no
person shall be injured by any one except the
kinglet.  And every one here must obey the laws.  So,
unless you promise not to carve or to eat this man
of gingerbread, who is now a subject of our kinglet,
we must lock you up in prison."

"I'll eat him as soon as I have the chance.
I have a right to do so," cried the Arab.

"You're a bad man!" said Chick, stamping one
small foot indignantly.

"I'm not," answered Ali Dubh, "I'm a good
man.  And I paid Jules Grogrande fifty cents for
this gingerbread imitation of a man, who is mixed
with my own magic Elixir.  Also I paid a witch
nine dollars to transport me to wherever the
gingerbread man might be -- which is right here -- that
I might take possession of my own property.  So
I've got him, and he's paid for, and he's mine, and
I claim the right to eat him whenever I please."

"You'll do no such thing," declared Chick.
"Why, John Dough is alive, and no one has a right
to make him dead and then eat him -- even if he is paid for!"

"Don't worry, my Cherub," said the big-headed
man, soothingly; "we'll go at once and lock this
Arab in a strong room of the castle, so that he
can't possibly escape."

Chick smiled sweetly at this promise; but the
Arab scowled and said, grimly:

"Never mind.  My time will come.  Some day
I shall surely eat that gingerbread man, in spite of
this Cherub and all the rest of you."

This defiance made the Brotherhood of Failings
and the big-headed man so angry that they at once
dragged Ali Dubh away to the castle, and John
Dough and Chick followed after, hand in hand,
and feeling quite safe.

Presently they came to a great archway that led
into the courtyard of the castle.  Having passed
through this arch, the gingerbread man saw groups
of the most astonishing people, who were busying
themselves over extraordinary tasks, such as
building machines, boiling strange-smelling chemicals in
queer pots, drawing curious designs, and like occupations.
A sudden crash announced that the Blunderer
had fallen into the middle of a delicate
machine and smashed it into bits.  Before they
could pull him out the Unlucky One ran against
the whirling arm of a windmill and was tossed
halfway across the courtyard, while the Awkward
One upset a boiling kettle and set every one to
coughing who inhaled the odor of the compound
that was spilled upon the ground.

To John's surprise no one seemed much worried
over these accidents.  Even the victims joined in
Chick's merry laughter, and those of the Failings
who had escaped disaster calmly proceeded to lock
up the Arab in a cell that had a strong iron grating
for a door, and fastened with a huge padlock.

Afterward they all entered through a second
arch into the great hall of the castle.

This was a long, wide room with a tiled floor, and
walls that were covered with many trophies, such as
armor, spears, battle-axes, and swords of ancient design.

At the farther end was a raised platform upon
which stood a gorgeous throne.  Back of the throne
was an electric sign, flashing one letter at a time,
and reading: "What is Home without a Kinglet?"
Over the throne was suspended an enormous crown
-- big enough for a giant -- which sparkled with
gems.  Beside the throne a very fat man sat in a
chair so low that his knees nearly touched his chin.
He wore a short red coat, a wide white vest, and
blue knee-breeches, and all were embroidered in
gold.  The fat man's eyes were closed and he seemed asleep.

Within the throne sat the kinglet, propped upon
purple cushions, so that he would fit it better.  For
the kinglet was a small boy with a long, freckled
face, blue eyes, a pug nose, and black hair banged
across his forehead, and hanging in lank, straight
locks far down over his shoulders.  He wore an
ermine cloak lined with purple, and bore in his
hand a scepter with a jeweled ball at one end,
while beyond the ball projected a small golden
knob.  The kinglet's slim legs were crossed under
him like those of a Turk, and he seemed very frail
and delicate.

However, when the Failings and the Fresh-Air
Fiend and Chick and John Dough entered, the
kinglet's brow was puckered into a frown, and his
blue eyes fairly flashed fire.

"Odds Zooks!" he cried, as they all knelt before
the throne, "why have you dared to wait until
this hour to pay me your devoirs?"

Then he leaned down and prodded the fat
man with the knob of his scepter, so that the
sleeper started and opened his eyes.  "Is that
right, Nebbie?  Is 'devoir' a kingly word?" he demanded.

"Absolutely kingly, your Majesty," said the fat
man, yawning.  "It was used by King Arthur and
Richard Coeur de Leon."

"Very well!" said the kinglet, proudly.  Then
he turned again to the kneeling group before him.
"Why don't you answer me?" he exclaimed.  "Why
are you so late in paying me your boudoirs?"

"Devoirs, your Majesty!" said the fat man, hastily.

"I said 'devoirs'!" returned the kinglet, turning
upon him in anger.

"We are late because we did not get here
sooner," said the Awkward; "and we could not
get here sooner because we were late."

"So!" shrieked his Majesty, with blazing eyes.
"Now by my halidom--" he paused suddenly,
and turned to the fat man, prodding him so fiercely
that he jumped several feet into the air.  "Is
'halidom' the right word, Nebbie?"

"Sure," said the fat man, nodding emphatically.

"What does it mean?" asked the kinglet.

"What does halidom mean?"

"Yes."

"Why, a halidom is a halidom," said the fat
man, thoughtfully; "and belongs to kings."

"But what is it?" persisted the kinglet, impatiently.

"It's a--a--a sort of a royal prerogative, and
is usually painted red," returned the fat man, and
immediately resumed his seat and closed his eyes again.

The kinglet sighed, and turned anew to the Failings.

"Let me see, he remarked; "where was I?"

"You were by your halidom, your Majesty,"
suggested the Blunderer.

"Oh, yes." Again the long freckled face took
on a frown.  "By my halidom, churl--" He
stopped to glance at the fat man.

"Churl is all right," mumbled Nebbie, without
opening his eyes.

"By my halidom, churl, you shall either swallow
my scepter or die the death!"

"What death?" asked the Blunderer, trembling.

"The one that makes people dead," replied the
kinglet, sternly.  "Choose, then, varlet--"
("Varlet is good," said Nebbie, quickly, to avoid a
thrust) "whether to swallow my scepter or die the death!"

The Blunderer glanced at the scepter, the
jeweled ball of which was nearly as large as his head.

"I'll swallow the scepter," he said.

"Good," cried the king, and held it toward him.

"But not now," added the Blunderer, hastily;
"I'll take my time about it.  You didn't say when, you know."

The kinglet turned red with rage.
"Now, by the royal Juggernaut of Jowl--" he began.

"If I should swallow it now," continued the
Blunderer, calmly, "you would cease to be a
kinglet; for a kinglet without a scepter is nothing
but a flibberjig."

"What!" shrieked his Majesty, jabbing the fat
man furiously.

"That's right," declared Nebbie, groaning and
rubbing his fat side dolefully.  "A kinglet without
a scepter is a flibberjig, and I'll be black and blue
by to-morrow morning!"

"Well," said his Majesty, after considering the
matter, "I forbid you, Sir Blunderer, to swallow
my scepter until I give you leave."

Then his eye fell upon John Dough and Chick,
who were standing at one side of the Failings,
and immediately the little kinglet looked surprised,
and then curious, and then annoyed.  But perhaps
the annoyed look was because Chick laughed in
the royal face in a way that was certainly disrespectful,
and even John Dough didn't look at all humble.

"Here, you Chick; behave yourself," commanded the kinglet.

"I won't," said Chick, pouting two pretty lips.

"Well, this kingdom existed at one time without
an Incubator Baby, and I believe we could spare
you now.  I'll have your saucy head cut off,"
declared the kinglet.

"I dare you!" said Chick, making a face.

"There's a nice child, I must say!" retorted the
kinglet, scowling.  "But what can we expect of a
baby that has no parents and no proper bringing-up?
Bah!  I'm ashamed of you, Chick!"

"Don't you dare say anything against my Incubator!"
cried Chick, angrily.  "I guess I've had as good
bringing-up as you have, you disagreeable kinglet, you!"

His Majesty was at first about to retort with equal
anger; but he suddenly changed his mind and
turned to John Dough.

"Who are you, stranger?" he asked.
"And why are you wearing the Blunderer's armor?"

So much disrespect had been shown this kinglet
by his subjects that John was about to reply lightly
to these questions; but to his surprise Chick grasped
his hand and whispered to him to make a low bow
and to be very careful what he said.  So the
gingerbread man stepped forward and addressed
his Majesty with great ceremony.

"Oh, most puissant and serene kinglet!" he
began; "I am called John Dough, because I am
made of gingerbread; and I came to your Isle
because I could not help it."

The kinglet looked upon the stranger with a
kindly expression.

"'Puissant and serene'!" he murmured.  "Evidently,
John Dough, you are a person of wit and
intelligence, such as are most welcome to the Isle
of Phreex.  Kneel thou at my feet."

John knelt, as commanded, and the kinglet
at once dealt him a sharp blow upon the
Blunderer's helmet with the heavy end
of the royal scepter.  It dented in the steel
plate, and would have crushed the
gingerbread man's head had it not been
so well protected by the helmet.

"I dub you Knight of Phreex," said his Majesty.
"Rise, Sir John Dough -- villain no longer, but
noble and favored among my subjects!"

John stood up and bowed, although he was
slightly dazed by the force of the blow.

"Long live the gentle Kinglet of Phreex," he
managed to say.  And Chick clapped two chubby
hands with glee, and whispered: "Well done, my friend!"

"You please me, Sir John," remarked the
little kinglet, swelling out his chest complacently.
"I wish all the people of Phreex were so polite and
discerning." Then he looked around and inquired:
"Where's Sir Austed Alfrin, the Poet Laureate?"

Immediately a drapery parted, and a man with a
pale, thin face and long black hair entered and
saluted his Majesty with profound respect.  The
Poet had a bandage over one eye and hobbled as
if lame in one leg.  He was clothed all in black,
and his long frock coat had grease spots down the
front of it.

"Have you made me a sonnet to-day?" demanded
the little kinglet.

"Yes, my royal Master," answered the Poet; and,
pompously unrolling a scroll, he read in a loud,
falsetto voice, these lines:

    "There is a wise Kinglet of Phreex,
    Whose wit is so great that it leaks;
           His brain isn't big,
           But who cares a fig
    While wisdom from him fairly reeks?"

"Now, that's not so bad," said his Majesty,
reflectively.  "But can't you make it a little
stronger, Sir Poet?"

"I'll try," replied Austed Alfrin; and after penciling
some words on his tablets he read as follows:

       "The Goddess of Wisdom felt sad;
    And when asked why she whimpered so bad,
       Said: 'There's one, it is true,
          Who knows more than I do --
    And the Kinglet of Phreex is the lad!'"

"Now that," said his Majesty, "strikes me as
being real poetry.  How does it strike you, Sir
John Dough?"

"It's fairly good," replied the gingerbread man;
"but it hardly does you justice."

"The Poet doesn't dare do his Majesty justice,"
said the Disagreeable Failing.  "If he did, there
would soon be no Poet."

"There's something in that, too," said the
kinglet.  "But now, Sir Austed, write me a sonnet
on my new subject, Sir John Dough."

The Poet sighed and began writing on his tablets;
and presently he read this:

     "The Kinglet of Phreex, it is said,
   Has a Knight made of stale gingerbread;
           We could eat him, but yet
            The dyspepsia we'd get
   Would soon make us wish we were dead."

"That," said John, indignantly, "is rank libel;
and if your Majesty will loan me your scepter, I'll
make an end of this Poet in seven seconds by the clock."

"You have my permission to make mince-meat
of him," replied the kinglet, cheerfully.

"Mercy!  mercy, my lord!" screamed the Poet,
falling upon his knees before John and hastily
wiping the verse off his tablets, "give me one
more chance, I beg of you!"

"Very well," said the gingerbread knight.  "But
if it's no better than the last you shall be discharged.
Is it not so, your Majesty?"

"Quite so," laughed the kinglet.

The Poet nervously scribbled another set of lines,
which he read in a voice that trembled with fear:

       "The Gingerbread Man is so sweet,
       To eat him would be a rare treat;
          He's crisp and well spiced,
        And you'd find, were he sliced,
      That the eggs in him cannot be beat!"

"That's better," said John, "but I'm not sure
about the eggs, as I did not pay much attention
when I was mixed.  However, this sincere tribute
to my excellence will save you from my displeasure,
and you may go free."

The Poet did not wait an instant, but ran from
the hall as fast as his legs would carry him.

The kinglet now dismissed the Failings, who left
the royal presence quarreling and threatening one
another, and making so much noise and uproar that
the gingerbread man was glad to see them go.

"Aren't they nice?" asked the kinglet, looking
after them.  "I'd like to drown them all
in the castle moat, like kittens; but every king,
they say, has his Failings, so I suppose I must keep mine."

He sighed, and continued: "But what did
the Poet's sonnet say about your being crisp
and well spiced, and rather good eating were you sliced?"

"Don't pay any attention to that, your Majesty!"
said John, hastily.

"But why not?" persisted the kinglet.  "I
declare, Sir John, there's something about you
that makes me hungry whenever I look at you.
I don't remember having eaten any gingerbread
since I was a boy -- ahem! -- I mean since I came
to rule over the Isle of Phreex.  Ho there, my
guards!  Fetch me a knife!"

John was now trembling with terror; but Chick
said to the kinglet: "Your Majesty forgets that
you are to have pancakes and maple-syrup for
tea.  What's the use of spoiling your appetite,
when you know the gingerbread man will keep
good for weeks?"

"Are you sure?" asked the kinglet, anxiously.
"Are you sure he'll keep?  Won't he get stale?"

"Of course not," answered the child.  "He's
the kind of gingerbread that always keeps good.
And you mustn't forget he'll be a credit to the
Isle of Phreex; for whoever saw a live gingerbread
man before?"

"Nobody," declared the kinglet, positively.
"You're right, my Cherub; I'll save the gingerbread
man for another meal, and in the mean time
I can show him off before my people.  We pride
ourselves, Sir John, on having a greater variety
of queer personages than any other kingdom in existence."

"Then you ought to be careful of them, and not
permit them to be eaten," said John, still anxious.
But the kinglet did not seem to hear him.

"Pancakes and maple-syrup!" muttered his
Majesty, longingly.  "Dear me, Chick; I wish tea
were ready now."

"So do I," said Chick, laughing; for John
Dough was safe from being eaten just then, whatever
might be his future fate, and the child had
saved him by the mention of the cakes and syrup.

But now a sudden hubbub was heard at the
door, and in rushed a number of the royal guard
wheeling a big platform on which was seated a
woman so exceedingly fat that she appeared to be
much wider than she was long.

"Here!  what's the trouble with Bebe Celeste?"
asked the kinglet, frowning.

"She has lost two ounces, your Majesty," puffed
one of the guards, wiping the perspiration from his
forehead with his coat sleeve.

"Two ounces!" shouted the kinglet.  "Now, by
the toga of Samson -- by the way, Nebbie, did
Samson wear a toga?" He punched the fat man
so severely that Nebbie gave a roar of pain before
he answered.

"He wore several, your Majesty!"

"Then, by the several togas of Samson, Bebe
Celeste, how dare you come before me two ounces shy?"

"I didn't come; I was brought," said the fat
woman, in a wheezy voice.

"She was weighed in the balance and found
wanting," said the guardsman.

"What was she wanting?" asked the kinglet.

"Two ounces, your Majesty."

The ruler rubbed his pug nose with one finger,
in a reflective manner.

"Bebe," said he, "you've been exercising again.
You're trying to reduce!"

The woman began to cry.  "'Tain't my fault,
your royal giblet--"

"Kinglet, woman!" said the fat man, without
opening his eyes.

"Your royal kinglet, I didn't mean to lose a
single flutter o' flesh.  But my dog Duo got to
quarreling with himself and I got exercised in my mind--"

"Oh, the loss is in your mind, is it?" interrupted
the King.  "I wouldn't mind the loss if I had
not forbidden you to exercise at all, even in your mind."

"I couldn't help it, your fudgesty--"

"Majesty, woman!" said the fat man, sleepily.

"My dog Duo got to quarreling--"

"Bring us the dog, varlets, churls, and vassals!"
screeched the kinglet, in his shrill voice.

The guards stumbled over each other to obey;
and presently they returned leading such a curious
animal that John Dough stared at it in amazement.

It was a dog, without doubt; or rather, it was
a dog's body with a head and two legs at either end
of it.  So that when one end walked forward the
other end had to walk backward, and that made
the back end growl angrily.  But the same end was
not always the back end of the dog; for first one
head, and then the other, would prove strongest,
and drag the curious animal forward.

When this double dog, which was named Duo,
was brought in, both heads were snarling and
barking in a very noisy manner.  But however
much enraged they were, they could never get
together to do one another mischief.

"Be silent!" yelled the kinglet, annoyed at the clamor.

But the dog's heads paid no attention to the command.

"Very well," said his Majesty; "I'll put a stop
to your noise for good and all!  Here, you guards,
fetch me the Royal Executioner!"

The fat lady began crying anew at this, and
presently the door opened and a young girl entered
the hall.  She was clothed in simple robes of pure
white, over which her loose brown hair flowed in a
soft cloud.  Her eyes were large and dark and
very gentle in expression, and her cheeks were fair
as a lily.  In one hand the maid bore a long
sword, the naked blade of which shone brightly in
the light.  In the other hand was a sharpening-stone,
and as she bowed before the kinglet she rubbed the
stone gently against the keen edge of the blade.

Although the dog's heads were still quarreling,
and Bebe Celeste still weeping, it was upon John
Dough that the Royal Executioner first turned her eyes.

"I hope it isn't this one, your Majesty!" she
said, in a voice of disappointment; "for he
won't bleed at all, being made of cake."

"I beg your pardon," exclaimed John, hastily.
"I am not cake, but gingerbread."

"It's just the same," she answered, sighing, "you
wouldn't bleed if I cut you into bits."

"Why are you so bloodthirsty?" asked John,
looking reproachfully into the girl's gentle eyes.

"Because I'm the Royal Executioner, I suppose,"
she answered.  "I've held the office ever since my
father was destroyed by an earthquake, but I've
never yet executed a single person.  The kinglet
calls me in about a dozen times a day, but
something always happens to rob me of my victim.
I've worn out three sword blades, sharpening them,
but I've never carved anything yet!"

"Be of good cheer," said his Majesty, "for now
you shall see blood flow like water.  This time
I am fully resolved to be terrible.  Cut me this
snarling cur into two parts!"

"What, the dog?" asked the girl, surprised.  And
Bebe began to scream loudly, and the fat man woke
up and shook his head, and Chick patted both
heads of the animal tenderly, and a guardsman
cried out: "Oh, no, your Majesty!"

"And why not?" inquired the kinglet.

"Why, this is the most valuable creature in all
your dominions!" said the guard.  "Do you desire
to rob yourself of such a treasure, your Majesty?"

The kinglet hesitated, and then jabbed the fat
man with his scepter.

"Is it so, Nebbie?" he asked.

"It is so, my Lord," answered the fat man.  "If
you want to butcher anything, cut up a few of the
Royal Guards, or mince the Failings, or carve
Chick, the Cherub.  But the dog Duo is one of
the remarkable features of your kingdom, and
should be preserved at all hazards.  Why, he's
worth more than Bebe Celeste."

"That reminds me of Bebe," said the kinglet,
looking at the fat one sternly, "Take her away,
guards, and stuff her with mashed potatoes and
pate de foi gras.  If she doesn't regain those two
ounces in three days, she'll disgrace my kingdom,
and I'll turn her over to the Royal Executioner."

So the guards trundled away the platform on
which the fat lady sat, and the dog Duo followed,
first one head leading, and then the other.  And
now his Majesty threw off his ermine robe and laid
down the scepter and scrambled out of the throne.

"The royal audience is ended for to-day," he
said, "and now I'll go and see if those cakes and
maple-syrup are ready for tea.  And see here,
you Incubator Baby, look after Sir John Dough,
and mind that nobody eats him.  If there's one
bite gone when I see him again I'll turn you over
to the Royal Executioner -- and then there won't
be any Incubator Baby."

Then his Majesty walked away, chuckling to
himself in a very disagreeable manner.  At once
the fat Nebbie rolled out of his low seat and stood
up, yawning and stretching out his arms.

"Our kinglet is a hard master," said he, with a
sigh, "and I really wish some one would get up a
revolution and dethrone him.  He's been punching
my ribs all day long, and I'll be black and blue by
to-morrow morning."

"He's cruel," said Chick, patting the fat man's
hand, as if to comfort him.

"Yet he's too tender-hearted to suit me," complained
the lovely Executioner.  "If I could only
shed a single drop of blood, I'd feel that I am of
some use in the world."

"How dreadful!" cried John, with a shudder.

"Oh, not at all!" said the girl.  "For what's
the object of being an Executioner if one can't
execute?" And she tucked the sword under her
arm and took out her handkerchief and went
away weeping sorrowfully.


The Freaks of Phreex

"Well, didn't I take care of you all right?"
laughed the Incubator Baby, leading John Dough
from the throne-room and up a broad flight of
marble stairs.

"Indeed you did," he answered, gratefully.
"Really, my dear Chick, I believe that dreadful
kinglet would have eaten me but for you."

"'Course he would" said the Cherub, nodding
gayly; "and won't he be wild when he finds there
are no pancakes and maple-syrup for tea?"

John stopped short.  "Aren't there?" he asked.
"Oh, Chick!  I'm afraid he'll punish you for
deceiving him."

"I don't mind," declared the child.  "No one shall
eat a friend of mine that I've given my promise to
take care of.  So come along, John Dough, and
don't worry.  I've got a lovely room on the top
floor of this castle, and I'll share it with you."

So John mounted more marble steps, until finally
Chick brought him to a handsome apartment on
the third story.

"Here we are!" cried the Baby.  "Now, make
yourself at home, John, for we needn't fear the
kinglet until to-morrow morning, and then he'll
have forgotten that I fooled him."

Our hero's first act was to take off the
Blunderer's heavy armor and pile it in one corner
of the room.  When free from the weight of metal
he felt more like himself again, and walked to the
window to view the scenery.

"It's a pretty place, Chick," he remarked.

"Oh, the Isle is all right," answered the child.
"It's the people here that are all wrong, as you'll
soon find out.  Do you ever eat, John Dough?"

"Never," said John.

"Then, while you're waiting here, I'll go over
to the dairy and get my milk for tea.  You don't
mind if I leave you for a few minutes, do you?"

"Not at all," he declared.  "But it has just
started to rain, outside; you'll get wet, won't you?"

"That's nothing," laughed Chick.  "I won't melt."

"It's different with me," said John, sadly.  "If
my gingerbread body got soaked it would fall to pieces."

That made the little one laugh again, and it ran
merrily from the room and left John Dough alone
to stare out of the window.  There was a projecting
cornice overhead, so he had pushed his head well
out to observe the pretty scenery, when suddenly
he heard a voice say, in a tone of astonishment:

"Hello, neighbor!"

Turning toward the left, he saw sticking out
of the next window to his own a long bald head
that slanted up to a peak, underneath which
appeared a little withered face that was smiling in
a most friendly manner.

John bowed politely.

"Well, well," said the owner of the bald head.
"Here's another curiosity come to our island!
Wait a minute, and I'll run in and make your
acquaintance." So presently the bald head, which
was perched upon the body of a little, dried-up
looking man, entered John's room and bowed politely.

"I'm Sir Pryse Bocks," he said, "and the remarkable
thing about me is that I'm an inventor, and
a successful one.  You, I perceive, are a
delicatessen; a friend in knead; I might say, a
Pan-American.  Ha, ha!"

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," returned
John, bowing.  "But do not joke about my person,
Sir Pryse.  I'm proud of it."

"I respect your pride, sir," said the other.  "It's
bread in the bone, doubtless.  Ha, ha!"

John looked at him reproachfully, and the little
man at once grew grave.

"This island is full of inventors," said he; "but
they're all cranks, and don't amount to anything
-- except me."

"What have you invented?" asked John.

"This!" said the other, taking a little tube from
his pocket.  "You will notice that it often rains
-- it's raining now, if you'll look outside.  And
the reason it rains is because the drops of water fall
to the earth by the attraction of gravitation."

"I suppose so," said John.

"Now, what do people usually do when it rains?"
asked the little man.

"They grumble," said John.

"Yes, and they use umbrellas -- umbrellas, mind
you, to keep themselves dry!"

"And that is quite sensible," declared John.

The bald-headed one gave a scornful laugh.
"It's ridiculous!" he said, angrily.  "An umbrella
is a big, clumsy thing, that the wind jerks out of
your hand, or turns inside out; and it's a nuisance
to carry it around; and people always borrow it
and never bring it back.  An umbrella, sir, is a
humbug!  A relic of the Dark Ages!  I've done
away with the use of umbrellas entirely, by means
of this invention -- this little tube, which can be
carried in one's pocket!"

He held up a small instrument that looked like
a tin whistle.

"How curious!" said John.

"Isn't it?  You see, within this tube is stored
a Power of Repulsion that overcomes the Attraction
of Gravitation, and sends the rain-drops flying
upward again.  You stick the tube in your hatband
and walk out boldly into the rain.  Immediately
all the rain-drops shoot up into the air, and
before they can fall again you have passed on!  It's
always dry where the wearer of this tube goes, for
it protects him perfectly.  And when it stops
raining, you put it in your pocket again and it's all
ready for another time.  Isn't it great, sir?  Isn't
it wonderful?  Isn't the inventor of this tube the
greatest man in the world?"

"I'd like to try it," said John, "for no one
needs protection from the rain more than I do.
Being made of gingerbread, it would ruin me to get wet."

"True," agreed the other.  "I'll lend you the
tube, with pleasure.  Stick it in your hat-band."

"I have no hat," said John; and then he remembered
that he had left both the baker's hat
and his candy cane lying on the sands where he
had first fallen.

"Well, carry the tube in your hand, then," said
the inventor.  "It will work just as well that way,
but it's not so convenient."

So John took the tube; and having thanked the
bald-headed man for his kindness, he left the room
and walked down the stairs and through the big,
empty hall, and so out into the courtyard.

The rain seemed to have driven every one in doors,
for not a person could he see.

Holding the tube upright, he boldly walked
into the rain; and it gave him great pleasure to
notice that not a drop fell near him.  Indeed,
by looking upward, he could see the falling
drops stop short and then fly toward the clouds;
and he began to believe that the bald-headed inventor
was really as great a man as he claimed to be.

After descending the slippery path through the
rocks, he crossed the patch of green, and at last
reached the sandy shore, where he found the baker's
hat, soaked through by the rain.  As he lifted it he
saw the crooked handle of the candy cane sticking
out of the sand, and drew it forth to find it in excellent
condition, little of the dampness having reached it.

But now, as John Dough began to retrace his
steps, he discovered that his feet were soft and
swollen.  For he had been walking on the damp
ground and through the wet grass, and although
no rain had fallen upon his body, his feet were
getting to be in a dangerous condition, and the
licorice in them had become sticky.  After he had
recrossed the grass and come to the edge of the
rocks he began to be frightened, for bits of his left
heel now commenced to crumble and drop in the
path; and when he tried walking on his flabby
toes, they were so soggy and soft that he knew
they would not last very long.

While he paused, bewildered, another calamity
overtook him.  For the tube suddenly lost its
power of repulsion and ceased to work, and the
raindrops began to pelt his unprotected body and
sink into his flesh.  He looked around with a
groan of dismay, and discovered a round hole, or
tunnel, in the rock near by.  Staggering toward
this, he entered the tunnel and found that now no
rain could reach him.  The floor was smooth and
dry, and in the far distance he saw a light twinkling.

Not daring to walk farther upon his mushy feet,
John got down on his hands and knees and began
crawling toward the farther end of the tunnel.
He made slow progress, in that position; but soon
he heard a noise of machinery, and felt the warm
air of a furnace coming to meet him.  That gave
him courage to proceed, and he crawled onward
until he had reached a large, circular chamber,
where a tall man with whiskers that resembled
those of a billy-goat was busily working among a
number of machines.

"Hello!" this personage exclaimed, as he saw
the gingerbread man.  "What have we here?"

The voice and eyes were alike kindly; so John
told the man his story and asked permission to dry
his feet at the glowing furnace.

"Make yourself at home," said the man, and
turned to his work again.

The place was lighted by electricity, and was
warm and comfortable.  John put his feet as near
to the furnace as he dared, and soon felt the heat
drying up his soaked feet.  It was not long, indeed,
before his entire body was as crisp and solid as ever;
and then our hero stood upon his feet and found
that the damage to his heel would not interfere
much with his walking.

"What are you doing?" he asked the man.

"Making diamonds," replied the other, calmly.
"I suppose I am the only one in the world who ever
succeeded in making real diamonds; but people
did not believe in me, you see, so they sent me
to the Isle of Phreex.  Here I have manufactured
the finest diamonds the world has ever known, for
no one interferes with my work.  Look at these."

He threw back the lid of a large tin box, and
John saw that it was full to the brim with sparkling
gems of a clear white color.

"Take some," said the man, offering him a
handful.  "They are of no use to me here, because
I cannot dispose of them.  But I have the satisfaction
of making them, just the same.  Help yourself!"

"No, thank you," said John.  "I have no use for
diamonds, any more than you have."

"But the time may come when riches will be
a great help to you," said the man, and picking
out three very big stones he began pressing them
into John Dough's gingerbread body, one after the other.

"There!" he exclaimed.  "They are now safely
concealed, and if you ever need them you can dig
them out and sell them.  Those three stones would
be worth several thousand dollars if you ever get
into the world again, where diamonds are valued."

"You are very generous," said John.

"Oh, not at all, I assure you!" said the man,
wagging his goatlike beard with every word he
spoke.  "In this curious island there is no value
to anything whatever, not even to life.  All I can
do with my diamonds here is to stick them into
the kinglet's crown and scepter; so I'm getting
a big stock of them laid by.  Very soon I shall
begin studding the roof of the throne-room with
diamonds, and it will be a pretty sight to see them
glittering in one mass."

"Well," said our hero, "if it has stopped raining,
I believe I'll bid you good-by."

"Never mind the rain," answered the man.
"Here is a winding staircase that leads directly
upward into the castle.  If you go that way, the rain
cannot reach you.  The tunnel through which
you entered is only used for ventilation."

John thanked the good-natured diamond-maker
and started to climb the stairs.  There were a good
many steps, but after a while he came to a gallery
of the castle, and had little difficulty in finding the
passage that led to his own room.

As he walked along he heard the sound of a
piano, and paused at an open door to peer within
the room, for he imagined some one was pounding
upon the keys of the piano with a sledge-hammer.
But immediately a fluffy-haired man looked up
and saw him, and the next instant pounced upon
the gingerbread man in much the same way that
a cat would pounce upon a rat, and seized him
fast, drew him into the room, and closed and
locked the door.

John was astonished, but the fluffy-haired musician
began pacing up and down the room, swinging
his arms and shouting:

"I have it!  I have it at last!  I am great!  I
am magnificent!  I am better than Vogner
himself!" He paused to glare upon John.  "Why
don't you shout, you baked idiot?  Why don't
you weep with joy?" he cried.  "It is great, I
tell you!  It is great!"

"What is great?" asked John.

"The symphonie!  The divine symphonie, you
heartless molasses-cake, or devil's food, or whatever
you are!  And I composed it -- I -- Tietjamus
Toips!  I am greater than Vogner!"

"I didn't hear it," said the gingerbread man.

The musician threw himself upon the piano, and
produced a succession of such remarkable sounds
that John was surprised.

"Did you understand it?" demanded the fluffy-haired one, jumping up again.

"No," said John.

"No!  Of course not!  No one can understand
it.  It is genius!  It will be played at all the great
concerts.  The critics will write columns in praise
of it.  Some folks can understand Vogner a little.
No one can understand me at all!  I am wonderful! I am superb!"

"Well," said John, "I'm not a judge.  It
seemed to me like awful discord."

The musician threw himself upon his knees and
burst into tears.

"Thank you, my friend! -- my dear friend!"
said he, between the sobs.  "Such praise gladdens
my heart and makes me very happy!  Ah!  glorious
moment, in which I produce music that is not
understood and sounds like discord!"

John left the musician still shedding tears of
happiness, and walked to his room.

"The people of this island are certainly peculiar,"
he reflected; "and I am very glad indeed that I
am an ordinary gingerbread man, and not a crank."

He found the bald-headed inventor of the power
of repulsion awaiting him in the room.

"Well, how did the tube please you?  Is it
not wonderful?" he inquired.

"It's wonderful enough when it works," said John;
"but it suddenly quit working, and nearly ruined me."

"Ah, the power became exhausted," returned
the man, calmly, "But that is nothing.  It can
be easily renewed."

"However," John remarked, "I think that
whenever any one uses your tube as a protection
from the rain, he should also carry an umbrella to
use in case of accident."

"An umbrella!  Bah!" cried the inventor, and
left the room in a rage, slamming the door behind him.


The Lady Executioner

Presently Chick returned, looking bright and
happy as ever; but when the child heard the tale
of John's wanderings in the rain he received a
sound scolding for being so careless.

"You mustn't pay any attention to the
inventors," said the Cherub.  "This Isle is full of
'em, and most of their inventions won't work."

"I've discovered that," said John.

"But they're good fun, if you don't take 'em
in earnest," continued the Baby; "and as it's going
to rain all the afternoon I'll take you around the
castle to make some calls on some of the cranks
that are harmless.

John readily agreed to this proposal; so Chick
took his hand and led him through some of the
wide halls, stopping frequently to call upon the
different inventors and scientific discoverers who
inhabited the various rooms.  They were all glad
to see the pretty child and welcomed John Dough
almost as cordially.

One personage presented the gingerbread man
with a smokeless cigar that he had recently invented.
Another wanted him to listen to a noiseless music-box,
and was delighted when John declared he
could hear nothing at all.  A third wanted him
to try a dish of hot ice-cream made in a glowing
freezer, and was grieved because the gingerbread
man was constructed in such a way that it was
impossible for him to eat.

"Really," said John, "I don't see the use of these things."

"Oh, they're not useful at all," replied Chick,
laughing; "but these folks are all trying to do
something queer, and most of them are doing it.
Now we'll climb this tower, and I'll show you
what I call a really fine invention."

So up they climbed to the top of one of the
turrets, winding round and round a narrow staircase
until they came upon a broad platform.  And on
this platform rested a queer machine that somewhat
resembled a bird, for it had two great wings and
a big body that glittered as brightly as if it were
made of silver.

While they stood looking at this odd contrivance
a door in the body of the bird opened and a
young man stepped out and greeted them.

John thought him quite the most agreeable
person, in looks and manner, that he had yet met
in the Isle of Phreex; excepting, of course, his
friend Chick.  The young man had a sad face, but
his eyes were pleasant and intelligent and his brow
thoughtful.  In a few polite and well-chosen words
he welcomed his guests.

"This is Imar," said Chick, introducing John;
"and he has invented a real flying-machine."

"One that will fly?" asked John, curiously.

"Of course," said the Baby.  "I've had many
a ride in it -- haven't I, Imar?"

"To be sure," replied the young man.  "I have
often taken Chick to ride as far as forty yards from
the tower.  If it did not rain, just now, nothing
would give me more pleasure than to prove to you
that my invention will work perfectly."

"I see you have made it resemble a bird,"
remarked John, who was quite interested in the machine.

"Yes," said the dreamy Imar, "and the reason I
have succeeded in my invention is because I have
kept close to Nature's own design.  Every muscle
of a bird's wings is duplicated in this machine.
But instead of being animated by life, I have found
it necessary to employ electric batteries and motors.
Perhaps the bird isn't exactly as good as a real
bird, but it will fly all right, as you shall see when
I take you for a ride in it."

He then allowed John to enter the tiny room in
the body of the bird, which was just big enough
to allow two to sit close together.  And in front
of the seat were various push-buttons and a silver
lever, by means of which the flight of the machine
was controlled.

"It is very simple," said Imar, proudly.  "Even
Chick could guide the machine, if properly
instructed.  The only fault of the invention is that
the wings are too light to be strong, and that is
why I do not take very long trips in it."

"I understand," answered John.  "It's quite
a distance to the ground, if anything happened to break."

"True," acknowledged Imar, sadly; "and I do
not wish to break my neck before I am able to
make a bigger and better machine."

"That is not to be wondered at," said John.
Then he thanked the inventor and followed Chick
down the winding stairs and through the halls until
they again reached their own room, where they sat
and talked until darkness came and drove the
Incubator Baby to its snowy couch.  As for the
gingerbread man, he never required sleep or rest;
so he sat quietly in a chair and thought of many
things until a new day dawned.

By morning the rain had ceased and the sun
arose in a blue sky and flooded the Isle with its
warm and brilliant rays.  The Incubator Baby was
so happy this pleasant day that it fairly danced
away to get its regular breakfast of milk and oatmeal.

But John Dough's little friend was back at his
side before long, and together they went hand in
hand through the halls of the castle to the
throne-room of the kinglet.

They found his Majesty already seated in the
throne, with the fat Nebbie asleep at one side of
him and the girl executioner carefully sharpening
her sword on the other side.

"This is my busy day," said the kinglet, nodding
graciously to Chick and the gingerbread man.
"There are too many useless people in my kingdom,
and I'm going to kill off some of them.  Sit down
and watch the flash of the executioner's sword."

Then he turned to his guards and commanded:

"Bring in the General."

Immediately they ushered before the kinglet a
soldierly man clothed in a gorgeous uniform.  His
head was erect and his countenance calm and set.
The eyes seemed dull and listless, and he walked
stiffly, as if his limbs were rheumatic.

"Sire, I salute you!" the General exclaimed, in
a hollow voice.  "Why am I brought before you
as a prisoner -- I, the hero of a hundred battles?"

"You are accused of being foolish," said the
kinglet, with a broad grin upon his freckled face.

"Sire, at the battle of Waterloo--"

"Never mind the battle of Waterloo," interrupted
his Majesty.  "I am told you are scattered
all over the world, as the result of your foolishness."

"To an extent, Sire, I am scattered.  But it is the result
of bravery, not foolishness." He unstrapped his left arm
and tossed it on the floor before the throne.  "I lost that
at Bull Run," he said.  Then he unhooked his right leg
and cast it down.  "That, Sire, was blown off at
Sedan." Then he suddenly lifted his right arm,
seized his hair firmly, and lifted the head from his
shoulders.  "It is true I lost my head at Santiago,"
he said, "but I could not help it."

John was astonished.  The old general seemed
to come to pieces very easily.  He had tucked the
head under his right elbow, and now stood before
the kinglet on one foot, presenting a remarkably
strange appearance.

His Majesty seemed interested.

"What is your head made of?" he asked.

"Wax, your Majesty."

"And what are your legs made of?" continued the kinglet.

"One is cork, Sire, and the other -- the one I
am now standing on -- is basswood."

"And your arms?"

"Rubber, my kinglet."

"You may go, General.  There is no doubt
you were very unwise to get so broken up; but
there is nothing left for the Royal Executioner to do."

The girl sighed and felt the edge of her blade;
and the old general replaced his head, had his
leg and arm again strapped to his body by the
guards, and hobbled away after making a low bow
before the throne.

Just then a great noise of quarrelling and fighting
was heard near the doorway, and while all eyes
were turned toward the sound, a wooden Indian
sprang into the hall, waving a wooden tomahawk
over his head, and uttering terrible war-whoops.

Following him came a number of the Brotherhood
of Failings, trying to capture the Indian.
The Awkward tripped up and fell flat on his face;
the Unlucky got in the way of the tomahawk and
received a crack on the head that laid him low;
the Blunderer was kicked on the shin so violently
that he howled and limped away to a safe distance.
But just before the throne the Disagreeable, the
Bad-Tempered, and the Ugly managed to throw a
rope about the Indian's arms and bind them fast to
his body, so that he ceased to struggle.

"What's the trouble?" asked the kinglet.

"Sir," said the Indian, proudly; "once I had
the honor to be a beautiful sign in front of a cigar
store, and now these miserable Failings dare to insult me."

"He claims his name is Wart-on-the-Nose,"
answered the Disagreeable, "and any one can see
there is no wart at all on his nose."

"So we decided to fight him," added the Ugly.

"And he dared to resist," said the Bad-Tempered.

"I am a great chief," the Indian declared, scowling
fiercely.  "I am made of oak, and my paint is
the best ready-mixed that can be purchased!"

"But why do you claim your name is Wart-on-the-Nose?"
asked the kinglet.

"I have a right to call myself what I please!"
answered the Indian, sulkily.  "Are not white girls
called Rose and Violet when they have not that
color?  John Brown was white and Mary Green
was white.  If the white people deceive us about
their names, I also have a right to deceive."

"Now, by my--my--my--" The kinglet
jabbed the fat man with his scepter.

"Halidom!" yelled Nebbie, with a jump.

"By my halidom!" said the kinglet, "I will
allow no one in my kingdom to tell an untruth.
There being no wart on your nose, you must die
the death! Executioner, do your duty!"

The Failings tripped up the Indian so that he
fell upon his face, and then the girl advanced
solemnly with her sword.

Three times she swung the glittering blade
around her head, and then she glanced at the
kinglet and said:

"Well!"

"Well, what?" asked his Majesty.

"Isn't it time to change your mind?"

"I'm not going to change my mind in this
case," said the kinglet.  "Chop off his head!"

At this the girl screamed and drew back.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Of course."

"Oh, your Majesty, I couldn't hurt the poor
thing!" sobbed the Executioner.  "It would be
simply awful!  Please change your mind, as you
always have done."

"I won't," said the kinglet, sternly.  "You do
as I tell you, Maria Simpson, or I'll have you
executed next!"

The girl hesitated.  Then she took the sword
in both her hands, shut her eyes, and struck 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."

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

"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 firmly bound together from his
ankles to his knees, so that he could only move
toward them by hopping.

Nevertheless, at the sight of the gingerbread man,
who was mixed with his precious Elixir, the Arab
began bounding toward his victim with long hops,
and had John and Chick not run so fast as they
did it is certain the Arab would soon have overtaken
them.  Through the throne-room they fled,
with Ali Dubh just behind them, and then they
began mounting the marble stairways to the upper
stories of the castle.

Their pursuer, nothing daunted by his bound
legs, hopped up the stairs after them with
remarkable swiftness.

"Hurry!" cried Chick; "hurry, John Dough,
or you'll be eaten."

They came to the second flight of stairs, and
still the Arab followed.

"We are lost," said John, in despair.  "He'll
surely get me this time."

But Chick tugged at his puffy brown hand and
hurried him on, for the Incubator Baby at that
very moment thought of a clever way to save the
gingerbread man.  Still holding John's hand, the
child ran through the upper passages to the foot
of the tower of Imar, and began climbing up
the steep stairs as fast as possible.  Luckily for the
fugitives, these stairs to the tower were very
difficult for Ali Dubh to climb by hopping.
When he was half-way up he lost his balance and
tumbled down again, and this accident gave John
and Chick time to enter the body of the bird
flying-machine, which still lay stretched upon the
roof of the tower.

"Quick!" shouted the child, shutting and fastening
the silver door behind them.  "Pull over
that lever, and away we go!"

"Is it safe?" asked John, hesitating.

"Is it safe to be eaten?" inquired Chick.

John quickly grabbed the lever, pulled it over, and the huge
bird fluttered its wings once or twice and rose slowly into
the air.  It sailed away from the roof just as the Arab
appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Stop!" screamed Ali Dubh.  "You're mine, John Dough.
Come back and be eaten."

"Don't mind him," said the Cherub, peeping at the Arab
through a little window in the bottom of the bird's body.
"And don't worry about this flying-machine, either.
Imar has told me how to run it, and it
will carry us somewhere, never fear.  This button
that I pushed is to start it, and there's another
button somewhere to stop it."

"Where?" asked John.

"I don't remember.  But never mind that; we
don't want to stop just yet, anyhow."

John stooped to look through the little window,
and saw spread out beneath him the Isle of Phreex.  The
Brotherhood of Failings stood upon the shore watching the
flight of the machine, and the kinglet was riding along calmly
upon his two-legged horse without any idea that the Incubator
Baby and the gingerbread man were leaving his kingdom for good
and all and he would probably never see them again.

The great bird flew steadily westward, and Chick
laughed and chatted, and seemed to enjoy the
journey immensely.  They were flying over the
ocean now, and before long the Isle they had left
became a mere speck upon the water.

"Where are we going?" John asked.

"I don't know," answered Chick.

"What land lies in this direction?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," said the Baby.

John became thoughtful.

"How long will this machine fly?" he inquired.

"Who knows?" said Chick.  "Imar was always
afraid to go very far from the island with it.  We'll
just have to wait and find out."

This was not very encouraging, but it was too
late to return now, the Isle of Phreex being lost
in the vastness of the great sea.  Moreover, John
reflected that he would be in greater danger there
from Ali Dubh than in riding in an untried
flying-machine.  The only thing to do was to
continue the flight through the air until they
sighted some other land -- provided the machine
did not suddenly break down.  It seemed to
be all right just at present, and John's admiration
of Imar's genius in constructing it grew steadily
as the bird flopped on and on without a sign of giving out.

Chick wasn't frightened, that was certain.  The
Baby laughed and sang little songs, and seemed as
happy and contented as when upon firm land; so
John gradually forgot his fears.  The sun had sank
low upon the horizon, and was looking for a good
place to dive into the sea, when the voyagers
discovered something far ahead of them that
glittered brightly upon the water.  Neither could
determine what the glitter meant, until they drew
nearer and saw a small, rocky islet, upon which
was perched an enormous palace that seemed to
be made of pure gold, having many crystal windows
set in its domes and sides.

"It is certainly a beautiful place," said
John.  "Let us land upon the islet."

"All right," returned Chick.  "I'll see if I can
find out which button stops the thing."

The Baby pushed one of the buttons, and at once the bird
shot up higher into the air.

"That isn't it!" cried John, in sudden alarm.

Chick pushed another button, and the machine
began whirling around in short circles.

"Dear me!" said John; "what's going to happen to us?"

Chick laughed and pushed another button.

"One of 'em must be to stop," declared Chick,
cheerfully; "and there's only two more left."

The bird paused, with a quick trembling of its
wings, and slowly fluttered downward.

"Oh, now we're all right," gayly announced the
queer child, "for there's only one button left; and
when I push it, John Dough, you must pull back
the silver lever and steer straight for the golden palace."

Down, down they sank, and fortunately the
descent was made to the flat roof of a wing of the
palace.  When they had almost reached it, Chick,
who was watching the roof through the little window,
pushed the last button, while John threw over the lever.

Immediately the flying-machine fell with a
thump that made the gingerbread man's candy
teeth knock together.

"Wow!" said Chick.  "That was a jolt and a
half!  I hope nothing's broken."

"I don't believe I will ever ride in it again,"
said John, smoothing the wrinkles out of his frosted
shirt-front and pulling the baker's hat off his eyes,
where it had become jammed.  "These air-ships
are too dangerous to suit me."

"Why, the bird has saved your life, and it
may save it again," said Chick.  "For my part, I
rather like flying through the air.  You never
know what's going to happen next.  And see
how lucky we are!  This is the only part of
the palace roof that is flat, and we struck it
to a dot.  If we'd fallen upon one of those
spikes" -- pointing to the numerous spires and
minarets -- "our clocks would have stopped by this time."

"You have a queer way of expressing yourself,
my friend," said John, looking upon the child
gravely.  "The vast knowledge I gained by means
of the Elixir taught me nothing of your methods
of twisting language."

"That's too bad," answered Chick.  "I can't
always figure out what you mean to say; but you
always know what I mean, don't you?"

"Almost always," John acknowledged.

"Then don't complain," said the Baby, sweetly;
and the gingerbread man looked at his feet with a
puzzled expression, and then back into the child's
smiling face, and sighed.

By this time they had climbed out of the bird's
body and stood upon the roof.  It was so high
above the rocks that it made John dizzy to look
down; but Chick soon discovered a trap-door that
led downward into the palace by means of a tiny
staircase.  They descended the stairs, and, having
pushed aside a heavy drapery that hung across a
doorway, came upon a broad passage running
through the upper story of the palace.  This led
to still another passage, and still another; but
although they turned this way and that in the maze
of passages, no living person did they meet with.
The tiled floors and paneled walls were very beautiful
and splendid; but they were so much alike that
our adventurers completely lost their way before
they came by accident to a broad staircase leading
downward to the next story.  These stairs were
covered with soft carpeting and the balusters were
of filigree gold.  Still no one was to be seen either
on the stairs or in the passages, and the palace was
silent as could be.

They found another staircase, by and by, and
descended to the main floor of the palace, passing
through magnificent parlors and galleries, until
finally a hum of pleasant voices reached their ears.

"I feel much relieved," said John, "for I had
begun to think the place was uninhabited."

"Let us go on," replied Chick, "and see who
these people are."

Turning first to the right and then to left, and
now following a high-arched marble passage, the
adventurers suddenly found themselves before heavy
draperies of crimson velvet, from beyond which
came clearly the sounds of laughter and the merry
chattering of many people.

They pushed aside the draperies and entered a
splendid domed chamber of such exquisite beauty
that the sight made even Chick pause in astonishment.

All around the sides and in the ceiling were set
handsome windows made of bits of colored glass,
so arranged that they formed very pleasing pictures.
Between the windows were panels of wrought gold
having many brilliant gems set in the metal.  The
floor was covered with priceless rugs of quaint
patterns, and the furniture consisted of many settees
and easy-chairs designed to afford the highest degree
of comfort.

Fountains of perfumed waters sparkled here and
there, falling into golden basins; and little tables
scattered about the room bore trays of dainty refreshments.

Seated within the room were groups of ladies
and gentlemen, all clothed in gorgeous apparel, soft
of speech, graceful and courteous in demeanor, and
with kindly faces.

These looked up with joyous surprise as the
gingerbread man and Chick entered, and the gentlemen
all arose and bowed politely to the strangers.

"Welcome!" cried the ladies, in a soft chorus;
and then two of their number came forward and
led their unexpected guests to seats in the very
center of the room.  Others offered them refreshment,
of which Chick eagerly partook, for the child
was hungry.  John Dough was obliged to explain
that he did not eat, and they accepted his speech
very graciously and did not remark at all upon his
unusual personality.

When the child had finished eating, John said:

"May I ask what palace this is, and who rules
upon this island?"

The ladies and gentlemen exchanged significant
looks, and smiled; but one made answer, in a
deferential voice:

"Good sir, this is the Palace of Romance; and
we have no ruler at all, each one of our number
having equal power and authority with the others."

"We pass our time," said another, "in telling of
tales of romance and adventure; and, whenever a
stranger comes to our palace, we require him to
amuse us by telling all the stories he may know."

"That is a fair requirement," replied John.  "I
think I shall like this Palace of Romance, although
I do not know many tales."

"The more tales you know the longer you may
enjoy our palace," one of the ladies remarked, earnestly.

"How is that?" asked John, surprised.

They were silent for a time, and ceased laughing.
But finally one of the gentlemen said:

"Our laws oblige us to destroy every stranger,
after he has related to us all the stories he knows.
It grieves us very much to tell you this; but the
laws cannot be changed, and the death is very
simple and without much pain.  For you will be
dropped through a trap into a long slide leading to
the bottom of the sea; and it is said there is little
discomfort in drowning."

Now, at this John looked pale and worried,
and even the laughing Chick became thoughtful.
Several of the ladies wiped their eyes with delicate
handkerchiefs, as if in sorrow for their fate,
and the men all sighed sympathetically.

"Why can we not live, and join your pleasant
party?" asked John.  "Why are your laws so
severe regarding strangers?"

"We number exactly one hundred -- fifty ladies
and fifty gentlemen," was the reply.  "And, as the
island is small, a large number of people would
crowd the palace and rendered it uncomfortable.
We do not entice strangers here; but neither dare
we permit them to escape and tell the world of
our pleasant home; for then the ocean would be
white with the ships of curious people coming to
visit us.  So, long ago, the laws were enacted
obliging us to destroy whatever strangers chanced
upon our retreat.  But you are in no immediate
danger.  As long as your stories last you will live;
and while you live you shall enjoy every pleasure
our palace affords."

John tried to think how many stories he knew
through the virtue of the magic Elixir; but the
startling news he had just heard so confused his
mind that it drove all recollection of romance out
of his head.

"Never mind," whispered Chick.  "All stories
except the true ones have to be made up; so I'll
make up some.  And don't you worry, John Dough.
I've been in worse boxes than this, I can tell you."

The gingerbread man didn't know exactly what
Chick meant, but the tone of confidence relieved
his embarrassment and inspired him with hope.  The
ladies and gentlemen set Chick and John in the
center of their group and drew their chairs around
them and prepared to listen attentively to the
child's story.

One might suppose the Incubator Baby's lifetime
had been so brief that it knew no stories at
all; but Chick was full of imagination and glad of
the chance to invent wonderful tales for others to
listen to.  And the child had resolved to make
the stories so long and so interesting that a chance
of escape from death might finally be discovered.
The flying-machine still rested upon the roof, and
if they could manage to regain it there would be
no need of their being dumped through the trapdoor
into the sea.

So Chick began to tell the company a story
about an astonishing Silver Pig that once lived in
Dagupan (wherever that may be), and was the king
of all the pigs of that vast country.  His squeal
could be heard for seven miles, the child solemnly
declared, and the pig's feet were so swift and
tireless that he could have run around the world in a
single day had there been no oceans to stop him.

The ladies and gentlemen were much interested
in the story, and listened very attentively while
Chick related a host of wonderful adventures that
befell the Silver Pig.  Daylight faded away and the
golden lamps were lighted, but still the Incubator
Baby kept the story going.

Finally one of the company interrupted the tale
to say that it was bedtime and they must all retire,
but that Chick should continue the story on the
following day.

That was exactly what the Cherub wanted, and
presently John and his comrade were escorted to
beautiful rooms, and the company of ladies and
gentlemen had bidden them a gracious and kindly good-night.


The Silver Pig

"How long is that story of the Silver Pig?" asked
John, when they were alone in their room.

"As long as I want to make it," answered Chick, brightly.

"But suppose they get tired of it?" John suggested, timidly.

"Then they'll finish us and the story at the
same time," laughed the child.  "But we won't
wait for that, John Dough.  This palace isn't a
healthy place for strangers, so I guess the quicker
we get away from it the better.  When everybody
is asleep we'll go to the place where our machine
lies, up on the roof, and fly away."

"Very good," agreed John, with a sigh of relief.
"I had begun to think we would be killed by these
pleasant ladies and gentlemen."

They waited for an hour or two, to be sure all
others in the palace were asleep, and then they
crept softly from the room and began to search for
the staircase.  The passages were so alike and so
confusing that this was no easy task; but finally,
just as they were about to despair, they came upon
the stairs and mounted to the upper story of the
palace.  And now they really became lost in the
maze of cross passages that led in every direction,
nor could they come to that particular doorway
that led to the stairs they had descended from the
little flat roof where the flying-machine lay.  Often
they imagined they had found the right place; but
the stairs would lead to some dome or turret that
was strange to them, and they would be obliged to
retrace their steps.

Morning found the child and the gingerbread
man still wandering through the endless passages,
and at last they were obliged to abandon the quest
and return to their room.

All that following day the fair-haired, blue-eyed
Baby continued the strange tale of the Silver Pig,
while the ladies and gentlemen of the Palace of
Romance seemed to listen with real pleasure.  For,
long ago, they had told each other all the stories
they could themselves remember or imagine; so
that it was a rare treat to them to hear of the
wonderful adventures of Chick's Silver Pig, and
they agreed that the longer the story lasted the
better they would be pleased.

"I hope you will not die for several days," one
lady said to the child, with a sweet smile.

That made Chick laugh.

"Don't you worry about me," was the reply.
"If stories will keep me alive I'll die of old age!"

When bedtime again arrived the tale of the
Silver Pig was still unfinished, and once more
Chick and the gingerbread man were courteously
escorted to their chambers.

They spent the second night in another vain
attempt to find the stairs leading to the flat roof,
and morning found them as ignorant as ever of
the location of their flying-machine.

In spite of the little one's courage, the task of
carrying the Silver Pig through so many adventures
was a very difficult feat, and the child was weary
for lack of sleep.  On that third day John fully
expected that Chick's invention would become exhausted,
and they would both be dropped through the
trap-door into the sea.  Chick thought of the
sea, too, but the thought gave the child one more
idea, and it promptly tumbled the Silver Pig over
the side of a ship and landed the adventurous
animal upon the bottom of the ocean, where
(Chick went on to say) it became acquainted with
pretty mermaids and huge green lobsters, and
rescued an amaryllis from a fierce and disagreeable
s