“But what do you do with it?” Mavis asked.
“Nip the feet of the enemy,” said the Princess, “and it holds on. Under Folk have no tails. You wait till they are near a rock; then nip a foeman’s foot with your good weapon, laying the other end on the rock. The oyster shell will at once attach itself to the rock and. …”
A terrible shout rang out, and the Princess stopped.
“What is it; oh, what is it?” said the children. And the Princess shuddered.
Again that shout—the most terrible sound the children had ever heard.
“What is it?” they said again.
The Princess drew herself up, as if ashamed of her momentary weakness, and said:
“It is the war cry of the Under Folk.”
VIII
The Water-War
After the sound of that terrible shouting there came silence—that is, there was silence where the children were, but all above they could hear the rush and rustle of a quick arming.
“The war cry of the People of the Depths,” said the Princess.
“I suppose,” said Kathleen forlornly, “that if they’re so near as that all is lost.”
“Lost? No, indeed,” cried the Princess. “The People of the Depths are very strong, but they are very heavy. They cannot rise up and come to us from the water above. Before they can get in they must scale the wall.”
“But they will get over the wall—won’t they?”
“Not while one of the Royal Halibuts still lives. The Halibuts have manned the wall; they will keep back the foe. But they won’t attack yet. They’ll send out their scouts and skirmishers. Till they approach, the Crustacean Brigade can do nothing. It is a hard thing to watch a fight in which you may not share. I must apologize for appointing you to such an unsatisfactory position.”
“Thank you, we don’t mind,” said Cathay hastily. “What’s that?”
It was a solid, gleaming sheet of silver that rose above them like a great carpet—which split and tore itself into silver threads.
“It is the Swordfish Brigade,” said the Princess. “We could swim up a little and watch them, if you’re not afraid. You see, the first attack will probably be delivered by one of their Shark regiments. The 7th Sharks have a horrible reputation. But our brave Swordfish are a match for them,” she added proudly.
The Swordfish, who were slowly swimming to and fro above, seemed to stiffen as though to meet some danger at present unseen by the others. Then, with a swift, silent, terrible movement, the Sharks rushed on the noble defenders of Merland.
The Swordfish with their deadly weapons were ready—and next moment all the water was a wild whirl of confused conflict. The Sharks fought with a sort of harsh, rough courage, and the children, who had drawn away to a little distance, could not help admiring their desperate onslaught. But the Swordfish were more than their match. With more skill, and an equally desperate gallantry, they met and repulsed the savage onslaught of the Sharks.
Shoals of large, calm Cod swept up from the depths, and began to shoulder the dead Sharks sideways toward the water above the walls—the dead Sharks and, alas! many a brave, dead Swordfish, too. For the victory had not been a cheap one.
The children could not help cheering as the victorious Swordfish reformed.
“Pursuit is unnecessary,” said the Princess. “The Sharks have lost too heavily to resume the attack.”
A Shark in terror-stricken retreat passed close by her, and she clipped its tail with her oyster shell.
The Shark turned savagely, but the Princess with one tail-swish was out of danger, pushing the children before her outspread arms, and the Shark began to sink, still making vain efforts to pursue them.
“The shell will drag him down,” said the Princess; “and now I must go and get a fresh shield. I wish I knew where the next attack would be delivered.”
They sank slowly through the water.
“I wonder where Reuben is?” said Bernard.
“Oh, he’s quite safe,” said the Princess. “The Boy Scouts don’t go outside the walls—they just do a good turn for anybody who wants it, you know—and help the kind Soles to look after the wounded.”
They had reached the great flooded garden again and turned toward the Palace, and as they went a Sea Urchin shell suddenly rose from behind one of the clipped hedges—a Sea Urchin shell and behind it a long tail.
The shell was raised, and the face under it was Reuben’s.
“Hi, Princess!” he shouted. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. We’ve been scouting. I got a lot of seaweed, and they thought I was nothing but seaweed; and so I got quite close to the enemy.”
“It was very rash,” said the Princess severely.
“The others don’t think so,” he said, a little hurt. “They began by saying I was only an irregular Sea Urchin, because I’ve got this jolly tail”—he gave it a merry wag—“and they called me Spatangus, and names like that. But they’ve made me their General now—General Echinus. I’m a regular now, and no mistake, and what I was going to say is the enemy is going to attack the North Tower in force in half an hour.”
“You good boy,” said the Princess. I do believe if it hadn’t been for his Sea Urchin’s uniform she would have kissed him. “You’re splendid. You’re a hero. If you could do it safely—there’s heaps of seaweed—could you find out if there’s any danger from the Book People? You know—the ones in the cave. It’s always been our fear that they might attack, too: and if they did—well, I’d rather be the slave of a Shark than of Mrs. Fairchild.” She gathered an armful of seaweed from the nearest tree, and Reuben wrapped himself in it and drifted off—looking less like a live Boy Scout than you could believe possible.
The defenders of Merland, now acting on Reuben’s information, began to mass themselves near the North Wall.
“Now is our time,” said the Princess. “We must go along the tunnel, and when we hear
