“And what,” asked Philip, “is the next deed?”
“In the extreme north of Polistarchia,” said Mr. Noah instructively, “lies a town called Somnolentia. It used to be called Briskford in happier days. A river then ran through the town, a rapid river that brought much gold from the mountains. The people used to work very hard to keep the channel clear of the lumps of gold which continually threatened to choke it. Their fields were then well-watered and fruitful, and the inhabitants were cheerful and happy. But when the Hippogriff was let out of the book, a Great Sloth got out too. Evading all efforts to secure him, the Great Sloth journeyed northward. He is a very large and striking animal, and by some means, either fear or admiration, he obtained a complete ascendancy over the inhabitants of Briskford. He induced them to build him a temple of solid gold, and while they were doing this the river bed became choked up and the stream was diverted into another channel far from the town. Since then the place is fallen into decay. The fields are parched and untilled. Such water as the people need for drinking is drawn by great labour from a well. Washing has become shockingly infrequent.”
“Are we to teach the dirty chaps to wash?” asked Philip in disgust.
“Do not interrupt,” said Mr. Noah. “You destroy the thread of my narrative. Where was I?”
“Washing infrequent,” said Lucy; “but if the fields are dried up, what do they live on?”
“Pineapples,” replied Mr. Noah, “which grow freely and do not need much water. Gathering these is the sole industry of this degraded people. Pineapples are not considered a fruit but a vegetable,” he added hastily, seeing another question trembling on Philip’s lips. “Whatever of their waking time can be spared from the gathering and eating of the pineapples is spent in singing choric songs in honour of the Great Sloth. And even this time is short, for such is his influence on the Somnolentians that when he sleeps they sleep too, and,” added Mr. Noah impressively, “he sleeps almost all the time. Your deed is to devise some means of keeping the Great Sloth awake and busy. And I think you’ve got your work cut out. When you’ve disposed of the Great Sloth you can report yourself to me here. I shall remain here for some little time. I need a holiday. The parrot will accompany you. It knows its way about as well as any bird in the land. Good night. And good luck! You will excuse my not being down to breakfast.”
And the next morning, dewy-early, Philip and Lucy and the parrot went aboard the yacht and loosed her from her moorings, and Lucy showed Philip how to steer, and the parrot sat on the mast and called out instructions.
They made for the mouth of a river. (“I never built a river,” said Philip. “No,” said the parrot, “it came out of the poetry book.”) And when they were hungry they let down the anchor and went into the cabin for breakfast. And two people sprang to meet them, almost knocking Lucy down with the violence of their welcome. The two people were Max and Brenda.
“Oh, you dear dogs,” Lucy cried, and Philip patted them, one with each hand, “how did you get here?”
“It was a little surprise of Mr. Noah’s,” said the parrot.
Max and Brenda whined and barked and gushed.
“I wish we could understand what they’re saying,” said Lucy.
“If you only knew the magic word that the Hippogriff obeys,” said the parrot, “you could say it, and then you’d understand all animal talk. Only, of course, I mustn’t tell it you. It’s one of the eleven mysteries.”
“But I know it,” said Philip, and at once breathed the word in the tiny silky ear of Brenda and then in the longer silkier ear of Max, and instantly—
“Oh, my dears!” they heard Brenda say in a softly shrill excited voice; “oh, my dearie dears! We are so pleased to see you. I’m only a poor little faithful doggy; I’m not clever, you know, but my affectionate nature makes me almost mad with joy to see my dear master and mistress again.”
“Very glad to see you, sir,” said Max with heavy politeness. “I hope you’ll be comfortable here. There’s no comfort for a dog like being with his master.”
And with that he sat down and went to sleep, and the others had breakfast. It is rather fun cooking in yachts. And there was something new and charming in Brenda’s delicate way of sitting up and begging and saying at the same time, “I do hate to bother my darling master and mistress, but if you could spare another tiny bit of bacon—Oh, thank you, how good and generous you are!”
They sailed the yacht successfully into the river which presently ran into the shadow of a tropical forest. Also out of a book.
“You might go on during the night,” said the parrot, “if the dogs would steer under my directions. You could tie one end of a rope to their collars and another to the helm. It’s easier than turning spits.”
“Delighted!” said Max; “only, of course, it’s understood that we sleep through the day?”
“Of course,” said everybody. So that was settled. And the children went to bed.
It was in the middle of the night that the parrot roused Philip with his usual gentle beak-touch. Then—
“Wake up,” it said; “this is not the right river. It’s not the right direction. Nothing’s right. The ship’s all wrong. I’m very much afraid someone has been opening a book and this river has got out.”
Philip hurried out on deck, and by the light of the lamps from the cabin, gazed out at the banks
