THE BROWNIES FIGHT
THE FLAMES

But once more the indomitable spirit of King Stanislaus manifested itself. Though the fire-engine was jammed in between the joists and timbers of the bridge, and could not be extracted by pulling the rope, the plucky monarch would not allow himself to be vanquished without a struggle.

He caused the Brownies to bring heavy planks, and farther directed them to wrench off the guard-rails of the bridge. The ends of these were placed under the engine, while at those opposite the sprites exerted as powerful a leverage as they could at the same time comrades were pulling with all their might and main at the rope.

Finally their combined efforts resulted in raising the engine up on the bridge again, after which it was easily rolled upon the road.

This unfortunate delay had seemed much longer than it really was, owing to the exigency of the situation, but they made up for lost time during the rest of the distance, and reached the site of the ruins without further mishap.

Though the engine was old and out of repair, it had one redeeming feature. It could throw two or three streams of water at once as well as one, and the Brownies in their great need forced it to the limit.

Immense volumes of water gushed out at the lava, and their contact produced a hissing, boiling sound, while the air was almost immediately filled with steam which became so thick that it could almost be cut with a knife. In the thick vapors that arose their forms could only be distinguished dimly, and they seemed like shadows flitting to and fro.

At times the hose burst in various places, and streams of water from them spouted high into the air involving waste, but King Stanislaus proved himself equal to all emergencies.

“Stick your fingers in the holes to keep the water in,” he shouted through the trumpet.

Brownies either poked their fingers through the openings or held their hands against them to prevent the escape of water. The hose got away from those who were holding it, and the terrific stream drenched the Dude, Chinaman, and Indian who were directly in its path, sweeping them off their feet. In another moment the Brownies regained their mastery of it, and once more the water was directed full at the blazing lava.

Such efforts were bound to achieve results, and these King Stanislaus noted with great satisfaction.

“We’re gaining on it!” he announced exultantly. “Just keep it up, boys, and we’ll soon have the fire out.”

Thus encouraged, higher and higher flew the Brownies on the handles of the engine, while others continued to play the hose upon the descending lava, which hissed, steamed, and bubbled as the water struck it.

As the lava cooled off it formed a composition resembling asphalt, and upon this the Brownies could walk, unwinding as they did so more and more hose, and all the while getting nearer and nearer to the volcano.

Finally they were directing the stream down the crater’s mouth, which gurgled, gasped, and then instead of flame began to emit smoldering smoke which grew less and less in volume.

“I guess that settles Mr. Volcano!” triumphantly cried King Stanislaus, as he wiped beads of perspiration from his royal brow.

“It’s a pity the palace was destroyed,” remarked the Student.

“It’s Dragonfel’s own fault,” said the king, “and he has only himself to blame. I wouldn’t have that man’s mean disposition, no, not for all the jewels and mines he possesses.”

“Even if he has lost his palace,” said the Dude, “he’s got a fine new macadamized road to the volcano. With a jitney-bus he can make a lot of money from tourists.”

The fire was practically extinguished, and all danger from it had passed. It was well that this was so, for the first rays of the sun were beginning to appear in the brightening east, and the mystic powers of the Brownies which come at night were fast being exhausted.

When the valiant fire-fighters at last had the volcano under control, Prince Florimel gazed anxiously around for Queen Titania, Dame Drusilda, Violet, and Daffodil, but none of them was in sight.

Neither could he observe Dragonfel nor any of his followers, for when they had become assured of safety these cravens had fled, leaving the Brownies to do all the work.

Florimel ran hither and thither, searching among the ruins for those he was so eager to find, and calling aloud their names, but there was no response to his cries, nor could he discover the slightest trace of them anywhere, which alarmed him greatly.

The Brownies were taking a much needed rest, but he got them all to join in the quest, and they hunted in every nook and corner thereabout without success.

“This is indeed strange,” said King Stanislaus, very much puzzled. “They were here just a little while ago, for I saw them myself. I didn’t pay any particular attention to them at the time, for the volcano was keeping me pretty busy.”

“They have made their escape,” said Florimel, “and have again carried off the queen and her companions. The question is, where have they gone?”

“I do not think they have gone far,” said the king, and his eye swept the harbor where the galleon was plainly visible. “Perhaps they are on the ship, but I very much doubt it. It may be they are hiding somewhere near.”

Suddenly the Policeman who was still prowling stealthily around poked his club in a dark, out-of-the-way corner into something flabby which at once emitted a queer, cackling shriek so uncanny that everyone jumped back in fright.

The next moment he quickly reached in his arm and drew out by the ear the quaking, shaking Demon Usher who had no opportunity to practice his eccentric locomotion, but was obliged to crawl after his captor on his hands and knees.

The Policeman led him by the ear to King Stanislaus who eyed him sternly.

“Mercy, have mercy!” shrieked the Demon Usher, in abject terror, and he shook as though he had the dumb ague, chills and fever, and something else besides. “Oh, kind sir, I will be your slave for life, and obey your slightest wish. Only don’t kill or torture me, I beg you!”

“Tell the truth, or it will be the worse for you,” said King Stanislaus.

His words in no sense were a threat, for it is always the worse for anyone who does not tell the truth. But they only served to increase the fears of the poor, frightened wretch who shook as if he had added St. Vitus dance to all his other symptoms.

“Spare my life!” he whined, with his teeth clicking against each other like castenets. “Oh, please, sir, spare my life! Ask me anything you like, and I will answer you. Yes, and though it is very hard for me to do so, I will speak the truth. Let me be your slave, and fan you, and black your boots!”

“Where is your master?”

“He is gone.”

“Yes, we know that already. Where has he gone?”

The Demon Usher looked around timidly as though to assure himself that neither Dragonfel nor any of his followers was within hearing, and then said, with an air of great cunning:

“If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“Yes,” said King Stanislaus. “I give you my promise.”

“Then I will tell you,” said the Demon Usher. “He has flown with his captives to his mine.”

“His mine?” echoed His Majesty.

“Have you not heard of it?” asked the Demon Usher in great surprise. “Why, it is the most wonderful mine in all the world. Every jewel known to a lapidary is there.”

“Where is it?”

“Near by.”

“Lead us to it,” broke in Florimel eagerly.

“Come with me,” said the Demon Usher. “I will show you the secret passage-way through which Dragonfel and the rest entered.”

Florimel made an impatient start to be off, and the Brownies showed their willingness to follow him through all dangers, but King Stanislaus, more careful, raised his hand to call a halt.

“Stay!” he cautioned. “This may only be a ruse to trap us. How do we know this is the truth?”

“It is the truth,” averred the Demon Usher. “Follow me and I will soon prove it to you.”

He moved off with his queer half-skip and half-jump, cocking his eye behind at them as if he feared they would try to stop him. But no one made any attempt to do so, and he appeared very much relieved.

Close at his heels came Florimel and the Brownies, with King Stanislaus among them, but the monarch looked ill at ease, as though he suspected treachery of some kind.

The Demon Usher led them to a slight rise where there was a rocky formation, and stopped before a boulder so huge that it would have required the strength of many men to move it.