THE EARTHQUAKE
AND VOLCANO

The big glass with not so much as a single drop tasted by Emil Muller’s lips fell from his hand with a loud crash, and its contents flowed like an amber-colored river along the floor.

Almost instantly at the Red Spirit’s startling announcement Dragonfel had sprung up from his throne stiff and rigid, and was regarding the embryo musicians with a glare of peculiar malevolence.

“The Brownies!” he involuntarily ejaculated. “I thought they played too well for a German band!”

Queen Titania, Dame Drusilda, Violet, and Daffodil had also risen as though they had received an electric shock. Their breath came fast in their sudden agitation. They started to go to the musicians, but Wolfinger, Mandrake, and Snoutpimple roughly grasped them, and held them back.

Realizing the failure of a deception that might have achieved success had it not been for the sly spying of the malicious Red Spirit, Emil Muller, otherwise King Stanislaus, turned and faced Dragonfel, his very attitude hurling a strong challenge of defiance.

Knowing that further subterfuge would be useless, the doughty monarch in a flash whisked off his false nose and moustache, and slipped from his baggy clothes. Likewise Louie Knobloch, Peter Dinkelspeil, Hermann Sweinskopf, and Jacob Schnittger removed their disguises, and the unmistakable features of the Sailor, Policeman, German, and Irishman were revealed. “Yes, we are the Brownies,” cried King Stanislaus, “come to demand the instant surrender of Queen Titania and her companions.”

“Idiots!” snarled Dragonfel, in a fury. “You have rushed to your destruction!” And he clapped his hands together, and shouted to his followers around him: “What ho, there! Summon everyone in the palace! We’ll see that these presumptuous sprites meet with fitting punishment.”

The Demon Usher half flew, and half ran, with even more celerity than usual, to do his bidding. With teeth showing, and fists clenched, the infuriated enchanter advanced threateningly toward the intrepid members of the band who looked at him without even so much as flinching.

“Have a care!” warned King Stanislaus. “Beware of the Brownies’ mystic power!” And, turning to the Sailor, he added: “Quick! the signal!”

Instantly the Sailor blew a deafening blast upon his cornet, and in a trice there was the pounding of many fists upon the outer doors, with crashing sounds as though heavy logs were being directed with the force of many hands against them.

Under the fierce, determined assault the doors gave way and toppled in, while through the opening swarmed and crowded the band of eager Brownies, with Prince Florimel in their lead.

At almost the same instant, through other doors, poured Dragonfel’s hosts, with Vulcan’s red imps somersaulting and leaping among them, and there were so many of them, and all so big and powerful, they well might cause dismay to the stoutest heart.

“So be it then!” cried Dragonfel, grandiloquently, for the sight of all these great, hulking fellows gave him renewed confidence. “It is power against power!”

And, striking a pompous attitude, he cleared his throat, and placed his hand on his chest.

“Stand back!” shouted King Stanislaus. “He’s going to speak a piece!”

Then Dragonfel poetically spouted:

This incantation, punctuated, as it were, by Vulcan’s imps, who threw balls of fire into the air where the commas, semicolon, and exclamation point are above transcribed, was delivered with only fair elocutionary ability, but its effect was electrifying.

Almost with the last word uttered by his vindictive lips a tremor ran through the earth that brought to all a sickening sensation of fear. The heavy walls and ornate supporting pillars shook, tottered, and then fell with a terrific crash, that might well horrify all, as the vibrations of the earth continued.

In another instant the magnificent palace lay in ruins illumined by fierce flames that leaped wildly from the apex of the volcano and licked with fiery tongues the very sky.

Shrieking and screaming with the horror of it all Dragonfel’s followers and the Brownies alike ran hither and thither, their warfare temporarily forgotten in this more appalling danger that suddenly had come to them. In their fright some sought ridiculous places of refuge but it was a matter of speed.

True to their nature to help in all times of distress, the Brownies worked well to save things from complete ruin, and if the proper implements had been at hand the havoc would not have been so severe. But Vulcan was in no mood to quit the quake that was felt in all parts of the palace.

Even the State bed-chamber was not exempt, and things that had gone up with great care and cost came down with great crash and confusion.

But more terrible danger menaced them. The shock of the earthquake was over, and had wrought utter ruin. Still, as far as could be learned, in all the confusion, uproar, and wild excitement no lives had been lost. Far greater peril, however, threatened from which there did not seem to be a possible way of escape, new horrors faced them on every side.

Round and pear-shaped volcanic bombs shot up with tremendous velocity from the crater’s boiling mouth, formed from the precious minerals stored for centuries deep in the treasury of the earth. And all of these in a molten red-hot liquid mass were flowing swiftly and irresistibly in a bubbling, hissing, steaming, seething, blood-red river straight on to where the unfortunate Brownies were among the ruins of the once proud and haughty palace.

Before all this occurred Florimel’s quick eye had noticed the audacious Red Spirit with his stolen bow and arrows, and he had sprung forward to wrest them from him. But the strange, repulsive creature evaded him mockingly, and flew off with his booty.

Promptly he communicated his plan to various members of the band, as he spied them, and the word was passed around from one to the other, until all were fully conversant with His Majesty’s views. And very soon all these agile sprites, with King Stanislaus and Prince Florimel in the lead, were racing helter-skelter back to the wooden structure that bore the inscription: NEPTUNE HOOK AND LADDER CO. NO. 1.

They broke in the doors, and soon were prying into every nook and corner of the place. And, while King Stanislaus forthwith seized a fire-trumpet that was hanging from a hook on the wall, Brownies were donning with the greatest haste fire helmets that even with paper stuffed in them came down over their ears, and putting on rubber boots and coats intended by Dragonfel for his followers, and which proved but sorry fits, for the boots came well up over their waists, and had to be turned back, and the coats trailed after them like the long trains of fashionable ladies’ gowns.

The energetic monarch was rather disappointed to find upon inspection that the machine instead of being one of the modern, up-to-date kind was of a very antiquated type, a brake-engine with man-handles that had to be worked by hand to throw a stream of water. But he was greatly relieved to discover that there was an abundant supply of hose, for in providing himself with this the enchanter evidently had made a nice calculation of the distance from the crater of the volcano to the stand-pipe connection in the palace, and he had allowed plenty to spare.

In stentorian tones His Majesty shouted out his orders through the fire-trumpet, and the Brownies hauled out the engine and hose-carriage. Then they all took hold of the long ropes attached to them, and started on a run for Dragonfel’s ruined palace, that now was little more than a tumbled heap.

Brownies perched on the engine, and one kept clanging the bell furiously. Some who ran with the ropes tripped on the trailing tails of their rubber coats, but they never let go, and were dragged along by their surer-footed companions.

After they had gone some distance the Policeman began shouting in remonstrance, and King Stanislaus ordered a halt to hear what he had to say. “What is it, officer?” asked His Majesty. “We’ve got to go back,” panted the Policeman. “Some of us forgot to put on red shirts.”

Though King Stanislaus felt very much chagrined at such neglect, he realized that it was now too late to remedy this most important matter, for every passing moment was precious. So he bellowed through the trumpet instructions to continue, and pulling and straining at the ropes they flew on, with the engine and hose-carriage bumping, lurching, and swaying after them.

On and on they went, pit-patting at last across the rickety old wooden bridge, but before they could drag the engine across it one of the planks snapped in two under its weight, and the wheels on one side went down through the opening almost as far as the water below.

The engine was firmly stuck, and though the Brownies tugged and strained at the rope, puffing, panting, and exerting all their strength, they could not even so much as budge it.

Nearer and nearer came the terrible river of fire, and the volcano seemed to be reaching even greater activity. It looked as though this effort of the Brownies was in vain.