Sky Island E-Book

L. Frank Baum

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

„Sky Island” was the second of three titles written by Baum featuring a spunky girl from California, Trot, and her companion, the old sailorman, Cap’n Bill. L. Frank Baum had hoped to end the Oz series and introduced Trot and Cap’n Bill in „The Sea Fairies”. In „Sky Island”, Button Bright has found a magic umbrella, which allows him to go anyplace in the world in seconds. He meets Trot and Cap’n Bill during his adventures, and the three decide to go to „Sky Island”, and small island without a name off the coast. But the umbrella instead take them up over the ocean. They land in a land of blue, where they are taken prisoner by the terrible Boolooroo. They must find a way to escape servitude, and on the way help the blue people. Will they escape? Will they ever find their way home? A charming addition to your collection of Oz books, this volume will delight long-time Oz fans as well as newcomers to L. Frank Baum’s realms of fantasy.

Leseprobe

Contents

A LITTLE TALK TO MY READERS

A MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL

THE MAGIC UMBRELLA

A WONDERFUL EXPERIENCE

THE ISLAND IN THE SKY

THE BOOLOOROO OF THE BLUES

THE SIX SNUBNOSED PRINCESSES

GHIP-GHISIZZLE PROVES FRIENDLY

THE BLUE CITY

THE TRIBULATION OF TROT

THE KING'S TREASURE CHAMBER

BUTTON-BRIGHT ENCOUNTERS THE BLUE WOLF

THROUGH THE FOG BANK

THE PINK COUNTRY

TOURMALINE THE POVERTY QUEEN

THE SUNRISE TRIBE AND THE SUNSET TRIBE

ROSALIE THE WITCH

THE ARRIVAL OF POLYCHROME

MAYRE, QUEEN OF THE PINK COUNTRY

THE WAR OF THE PINKS AND BLUES

GHIP-GHISIZZLE HAS A BAD TIME

THE CAPTURE OF CAP'N BILL

TROT'S INVISIBLE ADVENTURE

THE GIRL AND THE BOOLOOROO

THE AMAZING CONQUEST OF THE BLUES

THE RULER OF SKY ISLAND

TROT CELEBRATES THE VICTORY

THE FATE OF THE MAGIC UMBRELLA

THE ELEPHANT'S HEAD COMES TO LIFE

TROT REGULATES THE PINKIES

THE JOURNEY HOME

A LITTLE TALK TO MY READERS

WITH “The Sea Fairies,” my book for 1911, I ventured into a new field of fairy literature and to my delight the book was received with much approval by my former readers, many of whom have written me that they like Trot “almost as well as Dorothy.” As Dorothy was an old, old friend and Trot a new one, I think this is very high praise for Cap’n Bill’s little companion. Cap’n Bill is also a new character who seems to have won approval, and so both Trot and the old sailor are again introduced in the present story, which may be called the second of the series of adventures of Trot and Cap’n Bill.

But you will recognize some other acquaintances in “Sky Island.” Here, for instance, is Button-Bright, who once had an adventure with Dorothy in Oz, and without Button-Bright and his Magic Umbrella you will see that the story of “Sky Island” could never have been written. As Polychrome, the Rainbow’s Daughter, lives in the sky, it is natural that Trot and Button-Bright meet her during their adventures there.

This story of Sky Island has astonished me considerably, and I think it will also astonish you. The sky country is certainly a remarkable fair land, but after reading about it I am sure you will agree with me that our old Mother Earth is a very good place to live upon and that Trot and Button-Bright and Cap’n Bill were fortunate to get back to it again.

By the way, one of my little correspondents has suggested that I print my address in this book, so that the children may know where letters will reach me. I am doing this, as you see, and hope that many will write to me and tell me how they like “Sky Island.” My greatest treasures are these letters from my readers and I am always delighted to receive them.

L. FRANK BAUM. “OZCOT” at HOLLYWOOD in CALIFORNIA

CHAPTER 1

A MYSTERIOUS ARRIVAL

“Hello,” said the boy.

“Hello,” answered Trot, looking up surprised. “Where did you come from?”

“Philadelphia,” said he.

“Dear me,” said Trot, “you’re a long way from home, then.”

“‘Bout as far as I can get, in this country,” the boy replied, gazing out over the water. “Isn’t this the Pacific Ocean?”

“Of course.”

“Why of course?” he asked.

“Because it’s the biggest lot of water in all the world.”

“How do you know?”

“Cap’n Bill told me,” she said.

“Who’s Cap’n Bill?”

“An old sailorman who’s a friend of mine. He lives at my house, too–the white house you see over there on the bluff.”

“Oh; is that your home?”

“Yes,” said Trot proudly. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s pretty small, seems to me,” answered the boy.

“But it’s big enough for mother and me, an’ for Cap’n Bill,” said Trot.

“Haven’t you any father?”

“Yes, ‘ndeed. Cap’n Griffith is my father, but he’s gone most of the time, sailin’ on his ship. You mus’ be a stranger in these parts, little boy, not to know ‘bout Cap’n Griffith,” she added, looking at her new acquaintance intently.

Trot wasn’t very big herself, but the boy was not quite as big as Trot. He was thin, with a rather pale complexion, and his blue eyes were round and earnest. He wore a blouse waist, a short jacket, and knickerbockers. Under his arm he held an old umbrella that was as tall as he was. Its covering had once been of thick, brown cloth, but the color had faded to a dull drab except in the creases, and Trot thought it looked very old-fashioned and common. The handle, though, was really curious. It was of wood and carved to resemble an elephant’s head. The long trunk of the elephant was curved to make a crook for the handle. The eyes of the beast were small red stones, and it had two tiny tusks of ivory.

The boy’s dress was rich and expensive, even to his fine silk stockings and tan shoes, but the umbrella looked old and disreputable.

“It isn’t the rainy season now,” remarked Tot with a smile.

The boy glanced at his umbrella and hugged it tighter. “No,” he said, “but umbrellas are good for other things ‘sides rain.”

“‘Fraid of gett’n sun-struck?” asked Trot.

He shook his head, still gazing far out over the water. “I don’t b’lieve this is bigger than any other ocean,” said he. “I can’t see any more of it than I can of the Atlantic.”

“You’d find out if you had to sail across it,” she declared.

“When I was in Chicago I saw Lake Michigan,” he went on dreamily, “and it looked just as big as this water does.”

“Looks don’t count, with oceans,” she asserted. “Your eyes can only see jus’ so far, whether you’re lookin’ at a pond or a great sea.”

“Then it doesn’t make any difference how big an ocean is,” he replied. “What are those buildings over there?” pointing to the right, along the shore of the bay.

“That’s the town,” said Trot. “Most of the people earn their living by fishing. The town is half a mile from here, an’ my house is almost a half-mile the other way, so it’s ‘bout a mile from my house to the town.”

The boy sat down beside her on the flat rock.

“Do you like girls?” asked Trot, making room for him.

“Not very well,” the boy replied. “Some of ’em are pretty good fellows, but not many. The girls with brothers are bossy, an’ the girls without brothers haven’t any ‘go’ to ’em. But the world’s full o’ both kinds, and so I try to take ’em as they come. They can’t help being girls, of course. Do you like boys?”

“When they don’t put on airs or get roughhouse,” replied Trot. “My ‘sperience with boys is that they don’t know much, but think they do.”

“That’s true,” he answered. “I don’t like boys much better than I do girls, but some are all right, and–you seem to be one of ’em.”

“Much obliged,” laughed Trot. “You aren’t so bad, either, an’ if we don’t both turn out worse than we seem, we ought to be friends.”

He nodded rather absently and tossed a pebble into the water. “Been to town?” he asked.

“Yes. Mother wanted some yarn from the store. She’s knittin’ Cap’n Bill a stocking.”

“Doesn’t he wear but one?”

“That’s all. Cap’n Bill has one wooden leg,” she explained. “That’s why he don’t sailor any more. I’m glad of it, ’cause Cap’n Bill knows ev’rything. I s’pose he knows more than anyone else in all the world.”

“Whew!” said the boy. “That’s taking a good deal for granted. A one-legged sailor can’t know much.”

“Why not?” asked Trot a little indignantly. “Folks don’t learn things with their legs, do they?”

“No, but they can’t get around without legs to find out things.”

“Cap’n Bill got ‘round lively ‘nough once, when he had two meat legs,” she said. “He’s sailed to most ev’ry country on the earth, an’ found out all that the people in ’em knew and a lot besides. He was shipwrecked on a desert island once, and another time a cannibal king tried to boil him for dinner, an’ one day a shark chased him seven leagues through the water, an’–”

“What’s a league?” asked the boy.

“It’s a–a distance, like a mile is. But a league isn’t a mile, you know.”

“What is it, then?”

“You’ll have to ask Cap’n Bill. He knows ever’thing.”

“Not ever’thing,” objected the boy. “I know some things Cap’n Bill don’t know.”

“If you do, you’re pretty smart,” said Trot.

“No, I’m not smart. Some folks think I’m stupid. I guess I am. But I know a few things that were wonderful. Cap’n Bill may know more’n I do–a good deal more–but I’m sure he can’t know the same things. Say, what’s your name?”

“I’m Mayre Griffith, but ever’body calls me ‘Trot.’ I’s a nickname I got when I was a baby, ’cause I trotted so fast when I walked, an’ it seems to stick. What’s YOUR name?”

“Button-Bright.”

“How did it happen?”

“How did what happen?”

“Such a funny name.”

The boy scowled a little. “Just like your own nickname happened,” he answered gloomily. “My father once said I was bright as a button, an’ it made ever’body laugh. So they always call me Button-Bright.”

“What’s your real name?” she inquired.

“Saladin Paracelsus de Lambertine Evagne von Smith.”

“Guess I’ll call you Button-Bright,” said Trot, sighing. “The only other thing would be ‘Salad,’ an’ I don’t like salads. Don’t you find it hard work to ‘member all of your name?”

“I don’t try to,” he said. “There’s a lot more of it, but I’ve forgotten the rest.”

“Thank you,” said Trot. “Oh, here comes Cap’n Bill!” as she glanced over her shoulder.

Button-Bright turned also and looked solemnly at the old sailor who came stumping along the path toward them. Cap’n Bill wasn’t a very handsome man. He was old, not very tall, somewhat stout and chubby, with a round face, a bald head, and a scraggly fringe of reddish whisker underneath his chin. But his blue eyes were frank and merry, and his smile like a ray of sunshine. He wore a sailor shirt with a broad collar, a short peajacket and wide-bottomed sailor trousers, one leg of which covered his wooden limb but did not hide it. As he came “pegging” along the path–as he himself described his hobbling walk–his hands were pushed into his coat pockets, a pipe was in his mouth, and his black neckscarf was fluttering behind him in the breeze like a sable banner.

Button-Bright liked the sailor’s looks. There was something very winning–something jolly and carefree and honest and sociable–about the ancient seaman that made him everybody’s friend, so the strange boy was glad to meet him.

“Well, well, Trot,” he said, coming up, “is this the way you hurry to town?”

“No, for I’m on my way back,” said she. “I did hurry when I was going, Cap’n Bill, but on my way home I sat down here to rest an’ watch the gulls–the gulls seem awful busy today, Cap’n Bill–an’ then I found this boy.”

Cap’n Bill looked at the boy curiously. “Don’t think as ever I sawr him at the village,” he remarked. “Guess as you’re a stranger, my lad.”

Button-Bright nodded.

“Hain’t walked the nine mile from the railroad station, have ye?” asked Cap’n Bill.

“No,” said Button-Bright.

The sailor glanced around him. “Don’t see no waggin er no autymob’l,” he added.

“No,” said Button-Bright.

“Catch a ride wi’ some one?”

Button-Bright shook his head.

“A boat can’t land here; the rocks is too thick an’ too sharp,” continued Cap’n Bill, peering down toward the foot of the bluff on which they sat and against which the waves broke in foam.

“No,” said Button-Bright, “I didn’t come by water.”

Trot laughed. “He must ‘a’ dropped from the sky, Cap’n Bill!” she exclaimed.

Button-Bright nodded very seriously. “That’s it,” he said.

“Oh, a airship, eh?” cried Cap’n Bill in surprise. “I’ve hearn tell o’ them sky keeridges; someth’n’ like flyin’ autymob’ls, ain’t they?”

“I don’t know,” said Button-Bright. “I’ve never seen one.”

Both Trot and Cap’n Bill now looked at the boy in astonishment. “Now then, lemme think a minute,” said the sailor reflectively. “Here’s a riddle for us to guess, Trot. He dropped from the sky, he says, an’ yet he didn’t come in a airship!”

“‘Riddlecum, riddlecum ree; What can the answer be?’”

Trot looked the boy over carefully. She didn’t see any wings on him. The only queer thing about him was his big umbrella. “Oh!” she said suddenly, clapping her hands together. “I know now.”

“Do you?” asked Cap’n Bill doubtfully. “Then you’re some smarter ner I am, mate.”

“He sailed down with the umbrel!” she cried. “He used his umbrel as a para–para–”

“Shoot,” said Cap’n Bill. “They’re called parashoots, mate; but why, I can’t say. Did you drop down in that way, my lad?” he asked the boy.

“Yes,” said Button-Bright. “That was the way.”

“But how did you get up there?” asked Trot. “You had to get up in the air before you could drop down, an’–oh, Cap’n Bill! He says he’s from Phillydelfy, which is a big city way at the other end of America.”

“Are you?” asked the sailor, surprised.

Button-Bright nodded again. “I ought to tell you my story,” he said, “and then you’d understand. But I’m afraid you won’t believe me, and–” he suddenly broke off and looked toward the white house in the distance “–Didn’t you say you lived over there?” he inquired.

“Yes,” said Trot. “Won’t you come home with us?”

“I’d like to,” replied Button-Bright.

“All right, let’s go then,” said the girl, jumping up.

The three walked silently along the path. The old sailorman had refilled his pipe and lighted it again, and he smoked thoughtfully as he pegged along beside the children. “Know anyone around here?” he asked Button-Bright.

“No one but you two,” said the boy, following after Trot, with his umbrella tucked carefully underneath his arm.

“And you don’t know us very well,” remarked Cap’n Bill. “Seems to me you’re pretty young to be travelin’ so far from home an’ among strangers. But I won’t say anything more till we’ve heard your story. Then, if you need my advice, or Trot’s advice–she’s a wise little girl, fer her size, Trot is–we’ll freely give it an’ be glad to help you.”

“Thank you,” replied Button-Bright. “I need a lot of things, I’m sure, and p’raps advice is one of ’em.”

CHAPTER 2

THE MAGIC UMBRELLA

When they reached the neat frame cottage which stood on a high bluff a little back from the sea and was covered with pretty green vines, a woman came to the door to meet them. She seemed motherly and good, and when she saw Button-Bright, she exclaimed, “Goodness me! Who’s this you’ve got, Trot?”

“It’s a boy I’ve just found,” explained the girl. “He lives way off in Phillydelphy.”

“Mercy sakes alive!” cried Mrs. Griffith, looking into his upturned face. “I don’t believe he’s had a bite to eat since he started. Ain’t you hungry, child?”

“Yes,” said Button-Bright.

“Run, Trot, an’ get two slices o’ bread-an’-butter,” commanded Mrs. Griffith. “Cut ’em thick, dear, an’ use plenty of butter.”

“Sugar on ’em?” asked Trot, turning to obey.

“No,” said Button-Bright. “Just bread-an’-butter’s good enough when you’re hungry, and it takes time to spread sugar on.”

“We’ll have supper in an hour,” observed Trot’s mother briskly, “but a hungry child can’t wait a whole hour, I’m sure. What are you grinning at, Cap’n Bill? How dare you laugh when I’m talking? Stop it this minute, you old pirate, or I’ll know the reason why!”

“I didn’t, mum,” said Cap’n Bill meekly. “I on’y–”

“Stop right there, sir! How dare you speak when I’m talking?” She turned to Button-Bright, and her tone changed to one of much gentleness as she said, “Come in the house, my poor boy, an’ rest yourself. You seem tired out. Here, give me that clumsy umbrella.”

“No, please,” said Button-Bright, holding the umbrella tighter.

“Then put it in the rack behind the door,” she urged.

The boy seemed a little frightened. “I–I’d rather keep it with me, if you please,” he pleaded.

“Never mind,” Cap’n Bill ventured to say, “it won’t worry him so much to hold the umbrella, mum, as to let it go. Guess he’s afraid he’ll lose it, but it ain’t any great shakes, to my notion. Why, see here, Button-Bright, we’ve got half-a-dozen umbrellas in the closet that’s better ner yours.”

“Perhaps,” said the boy. “Yours may look a heap better, sir, but–I’ll keep this one, if you please.”

“Where did you get it?” asked Trot, appearing just then with a plate of bread-and-butter.

“It–it belongs in our family,” said Button-Bright, beginning to eat and speaking between bites. “This umbrella has been in our family years, an’ years, an’ years. But it was tucked away up in our attic an’ no one ever used it ’cause it wasn’t pretty.”

“Don’t blame ’em much,” remarked Cap’n Bill, gazing at it curiously. “It’s a pretty old-lookin’ bumbershoot.” They were all seated in the vine-shaded porch of the cottage–all but Mrs. Griffith, who had gone into the kitchen to look after the supper–and Trot was on one side of the boy, holding the plate for him, while Cap’n Bill sat on the other side.

“It is old,” said Button-Bright. “One of my great-great-grandfathers was a Knight–an Arabian Knight–and it was he who first found this umbrella.”

“An Arabian Night!” exclaimed Trot. “Why, that was a magic night, wasn’t it?”

“There’s diff’rent sorts o’ nights, mate,” said the sailor, “an’ the knight Button-Bright means ain’t the same night you mean. Soldiers used to be called knights, but that were in the dark ages, I guess, an’ likely ‘nough Butt’n-Bright’s great-gran’ther were that sort of a knight.”

“But he said an Arabian Knight,” persisted Trot.

“Well, if he went to Araby, or was born there, he’d be an Arabian Knight, wouldn’t he? The lad’s gran’ther were prob’ly a furriner, an’ yours an’ mine were, too, Trot, if you go back far enough; for Ameriky wasn’t diskivered in them days.”

“There!” said Trot triumphantly. “Didn’t I tell you, Button-Bright, that Cap’n Bill knows ever’thing?”

“He knows a lot, I expect,” soberly answered the boy, finishing the last slice of bread-and-butter and then looking at the empty plate with a sigh. “But if he really knows ever’thing, he knows about the Magic Umbrella, so I won’t have to tell you anything about it.”

“Magic!” cried Trot with big, eager eyes. “Did you say MAGIC Umbrel, Button-Bright?”

“I said ‘Magic.’ But none of our family knew it was a Magic Umbrella till I found it out for myself. You’re the first people I’ve told the secret to,” he added, glancing into their faces rather uneasily.

“Glory me!” exclaimed the girl, clapping her hands in ecstacy. “It must be jus’ ELEGANT to have a Magic Umbrel!”

Cap’n Bill coughed. He had a way of coughing when he was suspicious. “Magic,” he observed gravely, “was once lyin’ ‘round loose in the world. That was in the Dark Ages, I guess, when the magic Arabian Nights was. But the light o’ Civilization has skeered it away long ago, an’ magic’s been a lost art since long afore you an’ I was born, Trot.”

“I know that fairies still live,” said Trot reflectively. She didn’t like to contradict Cap’n Bill, who knew “ever’thing.”

“So do I,” added Button-Bright. “And I know there’s magic still in the world–or in my umbrella, anyhow.”

“Tell us about it!” begged the girl excitedly.

“Well,” said the boy, “I found it all out by accident. It rained in Philadelphia for three whole days, and all the umbrellas in our house were carried out by the family and lost or mislaid or something, so that when I wanted to go to Uncle Bob’s house, which is at Germantown, there wasn’t an umbrella to be found. My governess wouldn’t let me go without one, and–”

“Oh,” said Trot. “Do you have a governess?”

“Yes, but I don’t like her. She’s cross. She said I couldn’t go to Uncle Bob’s because I had no umbrella. Instead she told me to go up in the attic and play. I was sorry ‘bout that, but I went up in the attic, and pretty soon I found in a corner this old umbrella. I didn’t care how it looked. It was whole and strong and big, and would keep me from getting wet on the way to Uncle Bob’s. So off I started for the car, but I found the streets awful muddy, and once I stepped in a mud-hole way up to my ankle. ‘Gee!,’ I said, ‘I wish I could fly through the air to Uncle Bob’s.’

“I was holding up the open umbrella when I said that, and as soon as I spoke, the umbrella began lifting me up into the air. I was awful scared at first, but I held on tight to the handle, and it didn’t pull very much, either. I was going pretty fast, for when I looked down all the big buildings were sliding past me so swift that it made me dizzy, and before I really knew what had happened the umbrella settled down and stood me on my feet at Uncle Bob’s front gate.

“I didn’t tell anybody about the wonderful thing that had happened, ’cause I thought no one would believe me. Uncle Bob looked sharp at the thing an’ said, ‘Button-Bright, how did your father happen to let you take that umbrella?’ ‘He didn’t,’ I said. ‘Father was away at the office, so I found it in the attic an’ I jus’ took it.’ Then Uncle Bob shook his head an’ said I ought to leave it alone. He said it was a fam’ly relic that had been handed down from father to son for many generations. But I told him my father had never handed it to me, though I’m his son. Uncle Bob said our fam’ly always believed that it brought ’em good luck to own this umbrella. He couldn’t say why, not knowing its early history, but he was afraid that if I lost the umbrella, bad luck would happen to us. So he made me go right home to put the umbrella back where I got it. I was sorry Uncle Bob was so cross, and I didn’t want to go home yet, where the governess was crosser ‘n he was. I wonder why folks get cross when it rains? But by that time it had stopped raining–for awhile, anyhow–and Uncle Bob told me to go straight home and put the umbrella in the attic an’ never touch it again.

“When I was around the corner, I thought I’d see if I could fly as I had before. I’d heard of Buffalo, but I didn’t know just where it was, so I said to the umbrella, ‘Take me to Buffalo.’ Up in the air I went, just as soon as I said it, and the umbrella sailed so fast that I felt as if I was in a gale of wind. It was a long, long trip, and I got awful tired holding onto the handle, but just as I thought I’d have to let go, I began to drop down slowly, and then I found myself in the streets of a big city. I put down the umbrella and asked a man what the name of the city was, and he said ‘Buffalo’.”

“How wonderful!” gasped Trot. Cap’n Bill kept on smoking and said nothing.

“It was magic, I’m sure,” said Button-Bright. “It surely couldn’t have been anything else.”

“P’raps,” suggested Trot, “the umbrella can do other magic things.”

“No,” said the boy. “I’ve tried it. When I landed in Buffalo I was hot and thirsty. I had ten cents car fare, but I was afraid to spend it. So I held up the umbrella and wished I had an ice-cream soda, but I didn’t get it. Then I wished for a nickel to buy an ice-cream soda with, but I didn’t get that, either. I got frightened and was afraid the umbrella didn’t have any magic left, so to try it I said ‘Take me to Chicago.’ I didn’t want to go to Chicago, but that was the first place I thought of, and I soon saw this was going to be another long journey, so I called out to the umbrella, ‘Never mind. Stop! I guess I won’t go to Chicago. I’ve changed my mind, so take me home again.’ But the umbrella wouldn’t. It kept right on flying, and I shut my eyes and held on. At last I landed in Chicago, and then I was in a pretty fix. It was nearly dark, and I was too tired and hungry to make the trip home again. I knew I’d get an awful scolding, too, for running away and taking the family luck with me, so I thought that as long as I was in for it, I’d better see a good deal of the country while I had the chance. I wouldn’t be allowed to come away again, you know.”

“No, of course not,” said Trot.

“I bought some buns and milk with my ten cents, and then I walked around the streets of Chicago for a time and afterward slept on a bench in one of the parks. In the morning I tried to get the umbrella to give me a magic breakfast, but it won’t do anything but fly. I went to a house and asked a woman for something to eat, and she gave me all I wanted and advised me to go straight home before my mother worried about me. She didn’t know I lived in Philadelphia. That was this morning.”

“This mornin’!” exclaimed Cap’n Bill. “Why, lad, it takes three or four days for the railroad trains to get to this coast from Chicago.”

“I know,” replied Button-Bright. “But I didn’t come on a railroad train. This umbrella goes faster than any train ever did. This morning I flew from Chicago to Denver, but no one there would give me any lunch. A policeman said he’d put me in jail if he caught me begging, so I got away and told the umbrella to take me to the Pacific Ocean. When I stopped I landed over there by the big rock. I shut up the umbrella and saw a girl sitting on the rock, so I went up and spoke to her. That’s all.”

“Goodness me!” said Trot. “If that isn’t a fairy story, I never heard one.”

“It IS a fairy story,” agreed Button-Bright. “Anyhow, it’s a magic story, and the funny part of it is, it’s true. I hope you believe me, but I don’t know as I’d believe it myself if it hadn’t been me that it happened to.”

“I believe ev’ry word of it!” declared Trot earnestly.

“As fer me,” said Cap’n Bill slowly, “I’m goin’ to believe it, too, by’m’by, when I’ve seen the umbrel fly once.”

“You’ll see me fly away with it,” asserted the boy. “But at present it’s pretty late in the day, and Philadelphia is a good way off. Do you s’pose, Trot, your mother would let me stay here all night?”

“Course she would!” answered Trot. “We’ve got an extra room with a nice bed in it, and we’d love to have you stay just as long as you want to, wouldn’t we, Cap’n Bill?”

“Right you are, mate,” replied the old man, nodding his bald head. “Whether the umbrel is magic or not, Butt’n-Bright is welcome.”