say,” Philip remarked when she carried a cup to him at the wheel, “I’ve been thinking. All this is out of a book. Some one must have let it out. I know what book it’s out of too. And if the whole story got out of the book we’re all right. Only we shall go on for ages and climb out at last, three days’ journey from Trieste.”
“I see,” said Lucy, and added that she hated geography. “Drink your cocoa while it’s hot,” she said in motherly accents, and “what book is it?”
“It’s The Last Cruise of the Teal,” he said. “Helen gave it me just before she went away. It’s a ripping book, and I used it for the roof of the outer court of the Hall of Justice. I remember it perfectly. The chaps on the Teal made torches of paper soaked in paraffin.”
“We haven’t any,” said Lucy; “besides our lamps light everything up all right. Oh! there’s Brenda crying again. She hasn’t a shadow of pluck.”
She went quickly to the cabin where Max was trying to cheer Brenda by remarks full of solid good sense, to which Brenda paid no attention whatever.
“I knew how it would be,” she kept saying in a whining voice; “I told you so from the beginning. I wish we hadn’t come. I want to go home. Oh! what a dreadful thing to happen to dear little dogs.”
“Brenda,” said Lucy firmly, “if you don’t stop whining you shan’t have any cocoa.”
Brenda stopped at once and wagged her tail appealingly.
“Cocoa?” she said, “did any one say cocoa? My nerves are so delicate. I know I’m a trial, dear Max, it’s no use your pretending I’m not, but there is nothing like cocoa for the nerves. Plenty of sugar, please, dear Lucy. Thank you so much! Yes, it’s just as I like it.”
“There will be other things to eat by and by,” said Lucy. “People who whine won’t get any.”
“I’m sure nobody would dream of whining,” said Brenda. “I know I’m too sensitive; but you can do anything with dear little dogs by kindness. And as for whining—do you know it’s a thing I’ve never been subject to, from a child, never. Max will tell you the same.”
Max said nothing, but only fixed his beautiful eyes hopefully on the cocoa jug.
And all the time the yacht was speeding along the underground stream, beneath the vast arch of the underground cavern.
“The worst of it is we may be going ever so far away from where we want to get to,” said Philip, when Max had undertaken the steering again.
“All roads,” remarked the parrot, “lead to Somnolentia. And besides the ship is travelling due north—at least so the ship’s compass states, and I have no reason as yet for doubting its word.”
“Hullo!” cried more than one voice, and the ship shot out of the dark cavern into a sheet of water that lay spread under a white dome. The stream that had brought them there seemed to run across one side of this pool. Max, directed by the parrot, steered the ship into smooth water, where she lay at rest at last in the very middle of this great underground lake.
“This isn’t out of The Cruise of the Teal,” said Philip. “They must have shut that book.”
“I think it’s out of a book about Mexico or Peru or Ingots or some geographical place,” said Lucy; “it had a green-and-gold binding. I think you used it for the other end of the outer justice court. And if you did, this dome’s solid silver, and there’s a hole in it, and under this dome there’s untold treasure in gold incas.”
“What’s incas?”
“Gold bars, I believe,” said Lucy; “and Mexicans come down through the hole in the roof and get it, and when enemies come they flood it with water. It’s flooded now,” she added unnecessarily.
“I wish adventures had never been invented,” said Brenda. “No, dear Lucy, I am not whining. Far from it. But if a dear little dog might suggest it, we should all be better in a home, should we not?”
All eyes now perceived a dark hole in the roof, a round hole exactly in the middle of the shining dome. And as they gazed the dark hole became light. And they saw above them a white shining disk like a very large and very bright moon. It was the light of day.
“Some one has opened the trap-door,” said Lucy. “The Ingots always closed their treasure-vaults with trap-doors.”
The bright disk was obscured; confused shapes broke its shining roundness. Then another disk, small and very black appeared in the middle of it; the black disk grew larger and larger and larger. It was coming down to them. Slowly and steadily it came; now it reached the level of the dome, now it hung below it; down, down, down it came, past the level of their eager eyes and splashed in the water close by the ship. It was a large empty bucket. The rope which held it was jerked from above; the bucket dipped and filled and was drawn up again slowly and steadily till it disappeared in the hole in the roof.
“Quick,” said the parrot, “get the ship exactly under the hole, and next time the bucket comes down you can go up in it.”
“This is out of the Arabian Nights, I think,” said Lucy, when the yacht was directly under the hole in the roof. “But who is it that keeps on opening the books? Somebody must be pulling Polistopolis down.”
“The Pretenderette, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Philip gloomily. “She isn’t the Deliverer, so she must be the Destroyer. Nobody else can get into Polistarchia, you know.”
“There’s me.”
“Oh, you’re Deliverer too.”
“Thank you,” said Lucy gratefully. “But there’s Helen.”
“She was only on the Island, you know; she couldn’t come to Polistarchia. Look out!”
The bucket was descending again, and instead of splashing in the water it bumped on the deck.
“You go first,” said Philip to Lucy.
“And you,” said Max to Brenda.
“Oh, I’ll go first if you like,” said Philip.
“Yes,” said Max, “I’ll go first if you like, Brenda.”
You see Philip felt that he ought to give Lucy the first chance of escaping from the poor Lightning Loose. Yet he could not be at all sure what it was that she would be escaping to. And if there was danger overhead, of course he ought to be the one to go first to face it. And the worthy Max felt the same about Brenda.
And Lucy felt just the same as they did. I don’t know what Brenda felt. She whined a little. Then for one moment Lucy and Philip stood on the deck each grasping the handle of the bucket and looking at each other, and the dogs looked at them, and the parrot looked at every one in turn. An impatient jerk and shake of the rope from above reminded them that there was no time to lose.
Lucy decided that it was more dangerous to go than to stay, just at the same moment when Philip decided that it was more dangerous to stay than to go, so when Lucy stepped into the bucket Philip helped her eagerly. Max thought the same as Philip, and I am afraid Brenda agreed with them. At any rate she leaped into Lucy’s lap and curled her long length round just as the rope tightened and the bucket began to go up. Brenda screamed faintly, but her scream was stifled at once.
“I’ll send the bucket down again the moment I get up,” Lucy called out; and a moment later, “it feels awfully jolly, like a swing.”
And so saying she was drawn up into the hole in the roof of the dome. Then a sound of voices came down the shaft, a confused sound; the anxious little party on the Lightning Loose could not make out any distinct words. They all stood staring up, expecting, waiting for the bucket to come down again.
“I hate leaving the ship,” said Philip.
“You shall be the last to leave her,” said the parrot consolingly; “that is if we can manage about Max without your having to