Precisely when the clock had struck three there came three raps on the door. (There had been shuffling, whispering noises, and a squeak like a mouse before, very small, but different from the sound of the rain against the windows.)

“Come in!” said the Princess; and there entered the very ones she expected to see, because it was an appointment.

The first thing, she wanted to ask them if they didn’t think it would be comforting to have a fire in the fireplace, to look at.

The Others instantly thought it would. Miss Phyllisy shivered her shoulders when she thought it, and the Kitten shivered hers when she saw Miss Phyllisy. But Pat did not shiver, because none of them was truly chilly, only it was such a disconsolate day, with cold gray coming in at the windows and the corners dark, and large doleful brown leaves hanging sodden from a branch and beating back and forth in the rain.

The Princess was sure they would feel that way about the fire, and she thought they wouldn’t mind the trouble of starting it themselves, it was so jolly to see the first blaze. And they didn’t mind in the least; they loved it.

It was laid ready—large logs and small pieces to kindle it, but they were very busy for several minutes, changing the small pieces as Miss Phyllisy wanted them, because she had a talent for fires.

When it was arranged to suit her, the Kitten struck the match and lighted the paper—and they all stood quite still while a flame stole around, weaving in and out, and the blackened paper drew up where it passed. A round puffing smoke rose above and sharp red tongues flipped out at the top—a fine crackle began to sound—then came a broad roar. The next minute flames were wrapping around the great logs, the whole length of them, and blazing up the chimney, and the room to the farthest corner and across the ceiling was full of moving firelight, with little fires winking from everything shiny in it—even the raindrops chasing down the panes. It was surprising, the change it made. Now, the miserable day outside only made them more cosy and contented, here by Miss Phyllisy’s beautiful fire, where their Princess sat ready to tell them a most especial story that she would love to have them hear. But, as Prudence said, it wouldn’t be wise to begin while the fire needed attention, and there was no hurry. So they watched the first blaze pass off; then the logs settled and fell apart, and they poked them and put on one more, and Pat set the fender in place.

The new log sputtered a minute before the blaze began to eat it. They watched a few minutes longer, to be sure it was all right; and it was. The Princess said she never had seen a more satisfactory fire,—and likely to last.

So Pat and the Kitten curled up in the pillows on the broad couch in the corner near the fireplace, and Phyllisy sat on a stool at the end of the hearth, where she could reach the poker without interrupting, if it should be necessary. The Princess was in her large chair, drawn up a little way off. The rings on her clasped hands glittered, and there was a big rosette on the toe of her slipper, pointed out toward the glow. The firelight shone in her eyes and they looked very joyful, and her lips were smiling before she began to speak.

“The Jane Ellen,” said the Princess softly, making the name long, as if she liked to say it, and the Others wriggled as if they liked to hear,—“the Jane Ellen was a very busy ship, and made important journeys, carrying splendid cargoes from port to port; but she sailed so fast when she was going straight on that the Captain always had time to stop on the way to attend to any little thing that needed it, or to be obliging and kind—like the time when they arranged about the Sailor’s Star.

“Now if you had sailed on the Jane Ellen on one of the most interesting cruises she ever made, you would have come to a place where a long point of land ran out for miles into the sea. The point ended in a great rock that looked like the head and shoulders of a lion, coming out of the forest that covered the hills back of him, and roaring because he couldn’t get across to the point of a very large island that lay in the sea opposite. There was another great rock that made the point of the island (as if they were two gate posts), and this rock was the head of a man, frowning and dark; and one would hardly know which he was angriest with; the Lion, or any one who tried to pass through the gateway.

“Besides the large island, there were a great many smaller ones—like a flock of ducks—and between them the water was shallow. So ships that wanted to pass that way had either to go through the dark Gateway, between the Roaring Lion and the Frowning Man, or else turn away to the south and sail miles and miles out of their course, around that whole flock of islands. And a great many ships did want to go that way; for it led to a land where the pearls were as large as gooseberries and all lovely tropical things grew because they couldn’t help it.

“It isn’t pleasant to have even a rock man look as if he would like to bite off one’s bowsprit, or crowd one over into the jaws of a roaring lion; but they were only rocks with a good passage between, and no captain who was in the least bit of a hurry would have hesitated one minute, or even thought of sailing around those hundreds of islands on their account. But every captain who sailed the sea knew that, once inside that Gateway, he would come into the haunt of Torquillon, the Waterspout. And that was reason enough for any ship to go miles the other way.”

(Torquillon was a stranger to the Others, but they nodded as if they thought it was an excellent reason. The story was beginning in a way that made them very quiet, not wanting to interrupt.)

“Now when the Jane Ellen passed that way, if the Captain were not on deck and the Mate was commanding the ship, he liked to sail close to the Gateway instead of taking the shortest way to go around the islands, because he was not so old as the Captain, and he never had had so much as a glimpse of Torquillon.

“This time that I’ve begun to tell you about, the Captain was taking a nap, and Taffy had things his own way as they came into that part of the ocean.

“‘How’s the wind, Quartermaster?’ he said to the man at the wheel.

“‘Sou’west-by-south, sir,’ answered the Quartermaster.

“Taffy looked up at the sails and the clouds and out over the sea—as if he were making up his mind, instead of knowing all the time what he meant to do! Then he said to the Quartermaster:—

“‘Keep her as she is until we reach this point,’ and he made a little mark on the chart, right near the large island; ‘then we’ll make a long run to the south.’

“‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said the Quartermaster. But when the Mate turned away to walk for’ard, he drew up one side of his face so it was all bias, and winked at the Bos’n!

“Taffy went into his own cabin, and came out again with a long spy-glass in his hand. He walked to the foot of the foremast-shrouds and rested the spy-glass in the ratlines to steady it, and looked toward the place where the Gateway led into Torquillon’s Lair.

“And the Jane Ellen was sailing so fast that he hadn’t been looking long before he saw a little gray hump on the edge of the water, that he knew was the large island. Then he put down the glass and waited a little while. The next time he looked, both the island and the mainland showed plainly, with a little, little gap between.

“But he never could spend much time doing what he liked without being interrupted, so very soon he put down the glass and went below to see why Tom Green hadn’t polished the binnacle.

“While he was gone the Jane Ellen kept sailing on; and by the time he came back the Gateway showed even without the glass. And when Taffy had the glass steady once more and looked through it, he saw a dark speck on the water, outside the Lion’s head. He looked for a moment, then he called, ‘Bos’n!’

“‘Ay, ay, sir,’ said the Bos’n, coming up. Taffy handed him the glass.

“‘See what you make of that?’

“The Bos’n took the glass and looked carefully. Then he rubbed the small end with a loose fold of his shirt, and looked again.

“‘It looks to me like a brig, sir. She’s hove-to; and she’s lost some of her riggin’,’ he said.

“Taffy took the glass, and while he was looking, who should come along but the Captain! He had just stepped out of his cabin, and was surprised to see the island so near.

“‘Why are we here, Mr. Morganwg?’ he asked. ‘Aren’t we out of our course?’

“‘We are, sir, a little,’ said Taffy. ‘But that’s because the wind is sou’west-by-south. I thought we’d make better time this way.’

“‘And go by that Gateway, too,’ said the Captain; and he looked at the Bos’n and laughed. The Bos’n laughed too, so Taffy felt a wee bit foolish, and he thought he’d rather talk about something else. So he said, ‘There’s a ship lying over there, in distress.’

“‘Let me see,’ said the Captain, taking the glass. ‘Sure enough! We must go and see what is the matter.’”

“Everybody knew he wanted to go, didn’t they?” said Pat.

“Everybody,” said the Princess. “But they were all eager, now, to go to the rescue.

“So the Jane Ellen sailed on fast, and drew nearer and nearer to the brig; and when they were near enough to see, she was a sight!

“Some of her rigging was gone, and halyards and bowlines and braces and all kinds of ropes and sails were trailing in the water; and a flag of distress flip-flip-flipping in the breeze over it all.

“It was the Reindeer brig, and her captain was a friend of the captain of the Jane Ellen. So when they were hove-to, beside the Reindeer, the Captain—with the Mate standing by—was very glad to welcome his friend on board.

“‘Now, tell us all about what has happened to the Reindeer,’ he said.

“The captain of the brig was a short man with bright black eyes, and he hated to wait for anything. When he wanted a thing, he wanted it that very minute; and when he sent a man on an errand he often went after him before he had time to come back, because it seemed so long to him. His name was Gryller, but Skipper seemed to suit him exactly, so he was very seldom called Captain Gryller.

“When he came aboard the Jane Ellen, he could hardly wait for the proper greetings to be over before he began to tell his story. He spoke very fast; the words pattered, clean, and there sounded a great many rr’s in them.

“‘It’s that Waterspout!’ he said. ‘He’s played the mischief with my rrigging!’

“‘What? Torquillon?’ asked the Captain.

“‘Certainly. Did you ever hear of any other waterspout hereabouts? I didn’t. He took my main-to’gal’n’mast at the first whack!’

“‘But where was he?’ asked the Captain.

“‘Chasing me!’ said the Skipper, indignantly.

“‘Out here?’ asked the Captain, perfectly surprised. And he looked at the Lion and the Man, to see if Torquillon were peeping out.

“‘No!’ exclaimed the Skipper, loudly. ‘Inside.’

“‘Inside!’ said the Captain, even louder. ‘What were you doing there?’

“‘Going through, of course!’ shouted the Skipper. ‘Do you suppose I was trying to anchorr?’ and he almost danced on the deck, he was so impatient.

“The Captain looked at him. Then he said in his ordinary voice:—

“‘We’re neither of us deaf, and there isn’t a gale of wind; and will you please begin at the beginning, and tell me what you did do?’

“‘That’s just what I was trying to do; but you interrupted.’

“‘Because you began in the middle.’

“‘How could any one begin in the middle? The place where you begin is the beginning!’

“‘Well, what made you go through there, anyway?’ asked the Captain. (He wasn’t quite sure whether the beginning was the middle or the end or the other end, he felt so tangled up.)

“‘I didn’t go through,’ insisted the Skipper. ‘Didn’t I just tell you?’

“‘Then, will you tell me what you did do?’

“‘I starrted to go.’

“‘Why?’

“‘Why does a hen run across the road?’ asked the Skipper.

“‘To get to the other side,’ answered the Captain; and, ‘Because she can’t go ’round it,’ said Taffy.

“‘Which is it?’ asked the Captain.

“‘Both,’ said the Skipper. ‘I wanted to get to the other side, and I didn’t want to go around all those islands. It’s ridiculous, with that good passage through, to go miles out of the way because of that Waterspout—and I hadn’t the time to spend.’

“‘I don’t see that you’ve saved very much,’ said the Captain.

“‘I should have—if I’d gone through. It’s all very well for you; but every ship is not as fast as the Jane Ellen. Anyway, I made up my mind to try, and I got halfway through before that fellow caught me. But then he did smash me up like kingdom-come! and I had to box-haul her, and come back.’

“‘What do you want to do now?’ asked the Captain.

“‘I hoped a ship would come along and let me have some extra spars to make the Reindeer ship-shape; and then—I’ve got a Plan;’ and he stopped, and looked very mysterious and important.

“‘Are you going in again?’ asked Taffy, hoping he would say Yes—and he did.

“‘Yes, I am. And you’re going too.’

“‘I don’t know whether I am, or not,’ said the Captain. ‘What for?’

“‘I want to bottle up that Waterspout, and clear that passage so ships can go through there safely.’

“‘You don’t want to do much!’ said the Captain. ‘Have you thought how you could do it?’

“‘Yes, I know all about it. It’s no use to run him down; for he just spills and comes up again; and you can’t tie him up. But I noticed, about halfway through the passage there is a little island. It’s hardly large enough to call an island—just a flat-topped rock, not much above the water. In that rock there is a deep hollow. Now, I think we might lead Torquillon such a chase that he would trip over the island and spill into the hole. Then we could cover him over, quick, with a big tarpaulin, and afterward roof him in solid, so he never could get out. Don’t you think that would be worth spending a little time to do?’

“‘Yes,’ said the Captain. ‘If we could do it.’

“‘We can’t, of course, if we don’t try!’ said the Skipper. ‘Will you do it?’

“‘One thing at a time,’ said the Captain in that sensible way that is so annoying when one has an idea. ‘We’ll rig the Reindeer first—and consider about it.’

“And that was all he would say, though it seemed as if the Skipper couldn’t stand it, not to have it settled that very minute. But the Captain lent him some extra spars and his ship’s carpenter and some men, and they set to work; and before they knew it, almost, the Reindeer was ship-shape again, and looked as good as new.

“Except the Jane Ellen—that was a full-rigged ship anyway—there wasn’t a prettier little brig on the high seas. Captain Gryller had had her painted brown, dappled with lighter spots on her sides and two large light spots on her stern, because he meant to call her the Reindeer. And he didn’t care whether that was like a reindeer or a moose or a stag or a wapiti, or none of them; he liked it that way.

“While they were working, the Captain considered. And the more he considered, the more he didn’t know whether it would be one bit of use; but the less he wanted to go sailing away around all those islands without trying to bottle up that waterspout and clear the passage for all the ships that should come after.

“And Taffy never considered a minute. He didn’t know, and he didn’t much care, whether they could bottle up anything, or not; he thought only, some way or other, he must go in at that Gateway between the Lion and the Man, and see what was inside. So when the Captain called him into his cabin to consult with him, I think you can guess what kind of advice Taffy gave.”

(The children looked as if they could very easily. They would have given the same themselves.)

“When the Skipper came aboard for his answer, he found there was no persuasion needed; but they could begin at once to lay their plans very carefully for what they should do when they were once inside. The Skipper drew a chart, the way he remembered it, and they laid their course, just how they would sail, and settled everything so that there could be no mistake.

“At last the Captain said: ‘There! I think that’s all. And we can make a start the first thing in the morning.’

“‘To-morrow morning!’ shouted the Skipper. ‘Shiver my timbers! Do you think we can wait forever?’

“‘Nobody wants to wait so long as that,’ said the Captain. ‘But it’s too late to go in to-day. You don’t want to be caught in there in the dark.’

“‘Who’s going to be caught?’ asked the Skipper. ‘I’m not. And we’re going in to-day!’

“‘We’re going in to-morrow,’ said the Captain, just as firmly. The Skipper turned huffy.

“‘I’d like to know who’s planning this,’ he said.

“‘You are,’ said the Captain. ‘And I don’t think it’s much of a plan—whoever made it! And if you’re so set, we’ll go now,—the time may be as good as the plan,—but it’s too late!’

“‘It’s nearly the longest days in the year,’ said the Skipper. As if that wouldn’t have made it all the easier to wait for morning!”

“Then it was a wrong argument,” remarked Phyllisy.

“Yes; but he didn’t think long enough to see it.

“So, because he was so impatient, just after three bells of the second watch of the afternoon had struck, the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer weighed their anchors and made sail, and advanced side by side, like two white swans, to the Gateway that led into Torquillon’s Lair.

“There were always clouds hanging over it; and they lowered dark over the Frowning Man, so he scowled harder than ever as they passed out of the sunshine that made their sails shine white as snowdrifts, into the shadow of the cloud that suddenly turned them gray.

“But they sailed boldly by, close under his nose; and Taffy looked curiously, to see what sort of place they had come into.

“It was a fine open stretch of sea. The mainland curved back from the point into a great bay, so large that the point at the farther side of it was only a distant gray streak. The flock of islands lay at the right, and separated it from the wide ocean. High mountains rose up on the mainland, and the islands, too, were like mountaintops; but graceful palm trees and bananas and other lovely green things grew among the craggy rocks.

“Now, as they passed into the shadow of the great dark cloud and sailed under the nose of the Rock Man, a little wind, that lived in a cave on the large island, cried:—

“‘Whoooooo-uuuuuu-eeeEEE—!’ and struck, first the Jane Ellen, then the Reindeer, on the starboard bow, so that they heeled over to port; but they went steadily on.

“Then another little wind, that lived in a rocky gorge on the point of land back of the roaring Lion, began to whisper:—

“‘Wh-h-i-i-is-sssss-sh-sSH—!’ and blew the Reindeer and the Jane Ellen along from over the stern. The sails shivered and the sailors swung the yards; then the sails filled and the ships went right on.

“Another wind lived in a beautiful valley, where a waterfall came tumbling down, like a white ribbon, over the edge of the cliff, and while the first two winds were still whispering and crying, this wind woke up and shouted:

“‘Whooooooooo-eeeeeee-ooooop!’ and came tearing over the green water, splashing it up in white foam under his feet as he ran to meet the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer, that were swinging on, down the wide channel.

“Then, wakened by the whispering and shouting and crying, other little winds came racing out of their crannies on the islands and in the mountains, and all scurried after the Reindeer and the Jane Ellen, until they couldn’t tell, to save them, which was the lee and which the weather shore! And these winds were little, only compared with the great winds that travel over the whole Earth. They were large enough for this land-locked sea; and the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer found them all they cared to meet. But the two ships were sailed so well they rode weatherly under storm-sails; and by continually trimming sails and bracing yards and luffing and doing numberless other things that sailors know all about—and you and I don’t understand a bit of—they kept on their course down the channel, looking on every side for Torquillon, the selfish Waterspout who claimed it for his own, and wouldn’t let any one pass through. As if there weren’t room for him and them too!

“They had not gone far before the whistling of the winds, like barking watch-dogs, roused Torquillon; and he raised his head to see who was coming into his waters.

“The Captain was sailing the Jane Ellen himself, so Taffy was free to watch; and far ahead, just under a black cloud that hung very low, he saw the dark water rise in a mound.

“That was only for a moment, and it dropped back again. But the winds had seen their Master; and—as if he had called them to him—they rushed from all sides, whistling and crying and whooping, and left the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer with sails drooping in the sudden calm, while they circled to the spot where Torquillon’s head had pushed above the water.

“And as they reached him he rose with one powerful leap from the waves, and caught the dark sagging cloud, pulling it down behind his head, swinging and twisting as the winds flung themselves upon him, and filled the cloud that floated like a banner and served for a sail. And then he caught sight of the two ships, and the chase began!

“Down the channel he came flying; and the Reindeer and the Jane Ellen waited, side by side, their sails hanging idly in the dead calm, and the sailors all standing by the braces to be ready when the winds struck them. And now Taffy had his wish; for no one ever had a better chance to see a monstrous Waterspout.

“As he whirled and twisted, his long trailing robes wound close about his feet, then curved out again, smooth and black in the water, like the curves of a lily-petal. They looked quite black to Taffy; but as the light struck through the edges and thin folds, he saw that they were green—like the green water under him. And following after, leaping, snarling, jumping at the edges of his robes, the white foaming waves joined in the chase, and came rushing, whirling down on the two motionless ships.

“‘Wh-iiii-sss-shoooouuuuuu-eeeeEEE—!’ shrieked the winds, and the next instant Torquillon would have had them—but just in time the sails filled; and off flew the Jane Ellen to the right, and off darted the Reindeer to the left, and left him hanging in the wind, because he

couldn’t chase both at once, and didn’t know which to follow first.

“But it didn’t take him long to decide. He had seen the Reindeer before; and it made him very angry to see that she had come back as good as new. He swung his black banner high over his head, so that it caught the wind from the large island, and tore after the white spots on the stern of the brown Reindeer, that showed plainly although it was beginning to be dusk.

“The Captain had said it was too late to go in that night; and here was their work just begun, and very little more daylight to do it in, but he didn’t say, ‘I told you so,’ even to Taffy; but did his best to carry out the plan.

“When Torquillon was almost within reach of the Reindeer, he glanced aside and saw the Jane Ellen slipping along down the channel, and seeming about to escape him altogether. With a howl of rage he turned and flew after her instead. Then the Reindeer had her chance, and she turned down the channel as if she were going to escape. So, crossing and turning, the two ships dodged under the nose of that angry Waterspout, who was in such a rage it was very easy to bewilder him.

“And always they drew him nearer and nearer to the flat little island with the hollowed rock where they planned to seal him up forever, when he should have tripped into it.

“The winds shrieked and screamed from all sides, and the clouds pressed down, thick and black. But just before they reached the island, the sunset light broke through a narrow rift in the clouds, and shone through the gap between the Lion and the Rock Man; and all the foaming crests of the waves and the edges of Torquillon’s robes turned to fiery gold; and down his dark sides and in the black curves about his feet were blood-red streaks; and the great sable banner over his head burst into crimson flame!

“Then the Jane Ellen passed the island, and Torquillon tore after in his crimson fury, never heeding where he went—and the rock directly in his path. The Reindeer scudded after, the sailors on both ships standing by to lower the boats, with the wide tarpaulin ready to cover him over. And the Skipper fairly danced up and down on the deck in his excitement and delight to think how near they were to success. And Torquillon was almost on the rock!—when up went his feet, and on went the flaming scarlet sail—with the purple hollow on the side away from the sun—and carried him clean over, without even touching it; though the waves that followed crashed and boiled to the very top, and covered the rock from sight!

“Then the clouds closed in—black and heavy—and night had come almost in a minute. And there were the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer in the middle of an inland sea, without a star to guide them, the winds raging and shrieking about, and a furious Waterspout at their heels!”

The Princess stopped—as if that could possibly be the end of it!

“Oh, Dearie! You can’t have the heart to leave them like that,” Phyllisy remonstrated. “We’re so excited.”

“I’m pretty excited myself, Miss Phyllisy,” said the Princess. “I’d like to rest a few minutes. What should you say to a few chocolates? You might look at the box, at least, if you don’t care to eat them. It’s a very pretty one.”

“Where is it?” asked Pat.

When she brought it to the Princess, they all crowded around her chair and admired the outside of the box. Then she lifted the cover slowly, to show the chocolates packed in rows of different shapes with crimpy paper, and little tongs to pick up the kind they wanted. And the Princess let them go down to the under layers to see if they were different.

Still, they were very anxious to go on and find out what happened; and when the Princess had rested and Phyllisy had attended to the fire—it would have needed it soon any way—they went back to their old places and the Princess began again.

“You know how Old Sol stays a little while every year in each of the Houses of the Zodiac?

“It happened, when he glanced through the long slit in the clouds at Torquillon and the two ships, that he was making his visit to the Gemini Brothers; and that was very fortunate, because it gave him an idea.

“It was only a glimpse he had of that chase, but it was enough to show him that it was going to be hard times for the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer unless something were done for them before it was too late. And Castor and Pollux were right at hand and able to do it, so it was the most natural thing that he should send them.”

“And they’re specially for sailors—friends,” remarked Pat.

“Specially; Sol knew it. ‘Now’s your chance,’ he said, ‘you ground-and-lofty tumblers. Tumble right down, or that wicked Torquillon will have the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer made into kindling wood—if they don’t run ashore first, in the dark.’

“The darkness came so suddenly on the ships when the clouds closed down in the West, that it was bewildering. And they were so surprised and disappointed that Torquillon had not fallen into the trap they had laid for him that they hardly knew what to do.

“Fortunately, the same darkness that confused them confused him, too; but it was not long before the chase began again. Now the ships had no thought of anything but of how they should escape: and whether it was better to go back or forward they didn’t know. The darkness grew blacker and blacker, and they flew wildly back and forth—until they had no idea where they were, nor where the entrance lay, and could only guess where Torquillon was by the shrieking of the wild winds.

“Once he passed so close to the Reindeer that he nipped off her flying-jib-boom. But the flying jib was not set, of course, in that weather, so it didn’t much matter; and he carried a trysail on the Jane Ellen out of the gaskets with a crack like a cannon. Still they were managing to escape him, when, as the ships happened to be close together, and Torquillon was raging down the channel some distance away, trying to find them in the darkness, Taffy heard a sound—different from the screeching of the winds in the rigging—and it seemed to come from the foremast of the Jane Ellen.

“As he listened to the sound, like music, he looked up at the place from whence it came, and above the ends of the topsail yards were two glowing flames of pure white fire that threw a faint light on the deck, and the music grew clearer to his ears.

“And in a moment, all the men on both ships were looking and listening. But some could hear only the wind in the rigging and see two little lights hovering about the mast. Some could see and hear a little more; and Taffy,—because he was a Welshman and had a young heart,—more plainly than all, saw, standing lightly on the yards, high, high in the air, the twin brothers, Castor and Pollux! Young and strong, and with star-tipped spears in their hands and helmets on their heads with the white, flaming star streaming from the top like a plume.

“The Captain, who had a young heart, heard the music of their singing, though he couldn’t tell the words, but he looked at Taffy—and his eyes were shining, so the Captain knew he understood, and that the beautiful Star People wanted to save them, and that Taffy was the one

to help them do it. So he said softly, ‘Mr. Morganwg, you may take command.’

“Taffy only nodded, he was watching and listening so intently. And the Shining Brothers were singing:—

“They pointed their star-tipped spears and Taffy gave his orders: and fast and faster sped the Jane Ellen through the black waters, the Reindeer following, led by the gleaming flames on her topsail yards—though the Skipper couldn’t hear a sound of the music nor see anything more than the little lights, because he wasn’t a Welshman, and if he had a young heart, he was too impatient to listen to what it said.

“Torquillon, too, saw the little flames of fire, and saw how fast they flew, and he knew the ships were escaping. And with the winds howling and shrieking (they were hoarse by this time, you may believe, for they had had no rest for two hours), and the waves snapping at his heels, he came tearing once more up the channel—after the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer, that were flying for their lives!

“And when they reached the Gateway and slipped by the roaring Lion’s jaws, Torquillon was so close he couldn’t stop himself, and dashed his whole height against the towering rock!

“It was like the crash of a hundred great breakers at once on a rocky beach; and he slipped and splashed down the streaming rock, into the sea at the foot of it, while the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer passed safely out, to the singing of the Star Brothers:—

“Then the two flames were gone from the topsail yards, and the ships dropped anchor to wait for morning.

“But don’t you think the Star People were interested when Castor and Pollux came back to their House in the Zodiac?

“They were all waiting for them, and they listened, quiet as mice, while Pollux told them (with Castor correcting him when he didn’t tell it straight) how they had saved the ships and escaped from Torquillon; and what a smash and tumble he had had at the end.

“‘And that’s the end of him’, said Cassiopeia.

“‘Bless you, no, it isn’t!’ said Castor. ‘He doesn’t mind a spill like that. Of course it shakes him up, but he’ll come up like a jack-in-the-box.’

“‘Uglier than ever,’ remarked Orion.

“‘Then he ought to be ashamed of himself,’ said Cassiopeia.

“‘I don’t thuppoth he had any bringing up,’ said Draco. ‘He doethn’t theem to have any mannerth.’

“‘Not a manner,’ said Pollux. ‘And he’s too old to learn.’

“‘But he can’t be allowed to be rude and selfish where polite ships want to sail,’ said Castor. ‘Taffy will wait, and we are going back to-morrow night to teach him that.’

“‘How?’ asked Perseus.

“‘We want to talk with you about that,’ answered Castor.

“So they talked and they talked, and I’m not going to tell you what they said; but this is what happened after they had finished talking.

“Orion went striding away on his long legs, with his sword jingling at his side and the two dogs capering before him, until he said, ‘Come to heel, Sirius! Heel, Procyon!’ So they came to heel and the three walked fast along the Milky Way, through the star daisies, and at last they came to the edge of a great dark hole. It might have been a small lake, but there was no water in it, or, if there was, it was so deep down that it could not be seen. It seemed bottomless. No star-flowers grew around the bleak margin; and you wouldn’t wonder if you had been with Orion and felt the cold that came from the black emptiness which he looked into.

“He didn’t spend any time looking, but he knelt by the edge, with Sirius and Procyon watching every motion from either side, where they stood almost tumbling in. And they saw that Orion held in his hand two small, curious-shaped flasks. He took from his pocket a ball of moonbeam cord, and made a slip-noose in the end of it and put it around the neck of one of the flasks. Then he lowered it into the depths beneath him, and he and the dogs watched it go down—down—until it was swallowed up in the dark: but still he lowered the fine shining cord that was like a thin shaft of light. After a time he began to draw it up again. And when he had the flask in his hand, it was full of liquid, clear as crystal.

“He put in the stopper—quick—and lowered the other. When that was filled he wound up the cord, and he and the dogs came striding and capering back to the Gemini’s House. They were looking for him, and Orion handed them the flasks.”

“They couldn’t go themselves unless Sol told them, could they?” asked Pat.

“Of course not, the Zodiac People,” said Phyllisy. “I’m perfectly wild to know what’s in those flasks, but I don’t want you to tell, Dearie.”

“She will,” said Pat.

“Of course, at the right time. Please go on, Dearie.”

Then the Princess went on:—

“Very early the next morning Captain Gryller came aboard the Jane Ellen; and you never would have guessed, to see him, that it was his plan that had been such a failure, and that they had come so near losing the ships and their own lives because he had insisted on going in so late. When he stepped on deck he looked about him, and was surprised to see that they were not making ready to sail.

“‘I’ve just come to say good-by,’ he said to the Captain. ‘We had a narrow escape last night, didn’t we?’

“‘Yes, we did,’ said the Captain.

“‘Well—we’ll have to go around the islands after all. I’ve wasted too much time already, and I must be off.’

“‘Not yet,’ said the Captain. ‘We’ve only half done our work—not even that—and I’m not going to leave until that channel is clear.’

“‘But what’s the use?’ said the Skipper. ‘We’ll just risk our ships for nothing. You saw how we failed last night!’

“‘That’s because we didn’t do it right,’ said the Captain. ‘Who helped us last night?’

“‘The Star People.’

“‘Exactly. And they’ll help us again. And the Jane Ellen is going to stay here to do it!’

“‘Then the Reindeer will stay, too,’ said the Skipper.

“That day the sailors and every one had a good rest, for it was very hot and the fight with Torquillon had been hard work, and they wanted to be fresh to begin again. So all they did was to make the Jane Ellen and the Reindeer ship-shape, and wait for night and the Star Twins.

“When twilight came, the captain of the Reindeer saw the little flag fluttering from the peak of the Jane Ellen that said it was time to sail; and the two ships moved forward side by side, like soft gray birds in the gathering darkness.

“When they reached the Lion and passed into the shadow of the clouds that hung low and black over Torquillon’s Lair, it looked as if they were about to enter an enormous cavern, and night fell all at once, but not quite dark. For far as eye could see, the water was covered with a pale greenish glow—like phantom light. The crests of the little waves crinkled and crisped up in faint flames, and the smoke of the Sea-fire rose where the forefoot of the ship cut through the black water and turned it back in ripples and streams of light.

“All sailors know the phosphorescence, and Taffy had seen it often, but never so much nor so beautiful. And over this lake of pale, floating light the two ships sailed side by side, and the Mate of the Jane Ellen was in command.

“As they passed fairly between the Lion and the Frowning Man, the Wind from the Lion’s side cried: ‘Mmmmmmm-whooooo-uuuuu-eeeeEEE—!’ and rushed out upon them. Then all the other winds awoke and soon were screaming about them; and with their voices Taffy heard the sound of music—and there on the topsail yard, poised light as two dragonflies, stood the lovely Star Brothers with the streaming white flame-feathers in their helmets.

“They pointed straight ahead with their star-tipped spears and sang their brave song:—

“The straining ropes of the rigging hummed and sang with them as if the ships were mighty harps; and they held their way steadily down the channel in spite of the frantic winds, to meet Torquillon; and what they were to do with him, they hadn’t an idea, but they were sure Castor and Pollux would show them when the time came.

“That was a tremendous spill Torquillon had, just as he thought he had the two ships that had defied him, where he could crush them the next minute. So he was furiously angry when he gathered himself together at the foot of the rock; but at least he had taught them he was not to be trifled with! He took himself off, far down the channel; and there he sulked and made himself perfectly miserable because he couldn’t decide whether he would rather have the ships come back, so that he could crush them, or have them so frightened they never would try it again, nor let any one else.

“He had fallen into a sulky sleep when the watching winds cried, ‘WhiiiissssssshhhhhhooooouuuueeeEEE—!’ and he wakened and raised his head as the winds from beyond him rushed by to meet the two ships.

“He gave a scream of mingled rage and joy that called the winds to him, and, springing up, caught the floating banner that hung, always ready, over his head, and came whirling down the channel, black and furious and terrible to see! And the two ships came on steadily, never swerving.

“The Sea-fire ran up and down, in and out of the folds of his trailing robes in streaks of pale light, and curled on the edges of the waves that foamed about his feet. So they came nearer and nearer—and then they were so close he towered above them, higher than the tops of the masts—and the next instant it would have been too late—when Castor darted like a dragonfly to the fore-royal yard of the Reindeer, and pointed to the left with his spear, and at the same moment Pollux mounted to the fore-royal yard of the Jane Ellen, and pointed to the right with his spear, and the two ships turned to the right and the left, and Torquillon went straight on to pass between them before he could stop or turn himself.

“And as they swept by, the Twins raised their arms; and each held in his hand a curious-shaped flask, filled with a liquid, clear as crystal.

“They flung it out, over Torquillon! and as it came from the mouth of the flask, it spread and pushed and billowed, on and on, pulsing and crowding in clouds of vapor; and the air grew cold—cold—so chill it seemed no living thing could stand against it.

“The winds cried: ‘Ughhhhhoooouuuuughhhhhh-h—’ and fled back to their caves. But they carried some of the cold with them, and the monkeys and cockatoos shivered and sneezed in the trees as the frost-needles pricked them. And some of them had bad colds the next morning.

“And as the ships swept by, almost within reach, and the vapor poured over him, Torquillon shrieked with rage and loosed his hands from his banner, to catch them. It floated off; and Taffy, looking back from the Jane Ellen, and every one on the two ships saw their enemy stand, his hands still lifted above his head, and the drapery of his robes hanging stiff about him—shining and glittering in the calm moonlight like diamonds and emeralds and sapphires—no longer a terrible Waterspout, but a glorious Iceberg, frozen to his hot, angry heart!

“And all the air was full of finest diamond frost-needles—drifting—floating—slowly settling about him and over the two ships—until every spar and rope was coated with hoar-frost, and the sails and decks shone like silver; but the Star Twins were gone.

“Then all the clouds drifted away, and the dark blue sky of the tropic night arched over Torquillon’s Lair, with the throbbing stars looking down; and the most beautiful thing they saw was that wonderful Iceberg—all his rage gone—calm and shining in the tranquil sea.”

The Princess’s voice ceased. There was no sound, only a long-drawn breath through the room, as if great music had just come softly to a close.

She began again in a different voice—talking: “But the Captain knew it never would do to leave him there; for he would melt in the hot sun and be as bad as ever; though he was frozen harder than any ice he ever had seen. So they didn’t wait even for morning, but fastened ropes around him and set off to tow him North. They didn’t mind if it took a month—it was such a good thing to do. They carried him far up toward the North Pole, and left him frozen fast in the ice. And he will never get away!

“Now ships pass freely through the wide channel that was Torquillon’s Lair; and since he has gone the clouds have left too, and the Rock Man has forgotten to frown, and if the Lion roars, it is a roar of welcome. The little winds caper and frisk around the ships until the channel seems the pleasantest spot in the ocean, and they are sorry to leave it.”

The Kitten had her foot already off the edge of the couch, but she stopped, because the Princess leaned forward, with her finger up, to say one more word, and mischief began to dance in her eyes. “And,”—said the Princess, “if any one asks Taffy if he ever saw a Waterspout, his eyes shine and his white teeth, and he says, ‘Sure!’”

Then she opened her arms and the Kitten ran into them.

“I’ll ask him,” she said. “Will he tell me? Will he come soon?” She asked it so quickly, it was all one question, and her arm around the Princess’s neck pulled her head forward where the glow from the burned-down fire was on her face. It grew suddenly like a rose.

“I shouldn’t be one bit surprised if he did,” she answered.

“But, Dearie-Dearest,” said Phyllisy, perched on the arm of the chair and playing with the Princess’s fingers, “I wish you’d just explain this: You said it was so long ago—Taffy and all—nobody can remember when. I thought it was—not exactly ‘Ancient,’ you know, but ‘Once upon a time’?”

“That is perfectly true,” said the Princess, soberly. “But you know—”

“Yes?” prompted Miss Phyllisy.

“You know, Taffy had a young heart? It seems to me, he must have been always.”

That kept everybody silent for a moment, thinking about it. Then Pat’s voice came from among the pillows in the dusky corner of the couch: “Well—I hope to goodness he’ll like us!”

“I don’t see how he could help it,” said the Princess.